


Chalice of Secrets

by SecretWonderland



Series: harry potter but dark and gay [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beginning of a Series, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Child Abuse, Death, Depression, Double Agents, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, Draco Malfoy is a spy, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Happy Ending, Headaches, Humor, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, beginning relationships, draco is annoyed, harry bloody potter, mentions of dark aespects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23693698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretWonderland/pseuds/SecretWonderland
Summary: “Harry and Ron just flew a car into the Whomping Willow!”They both freeze, taking in a very deep breath. Draco makes an effort to count backwards from ten before he meets a stone cold furious face.“Do you think I could give you a hand with killing him? I promise to behave in Potions if you do. Really, Professor, I think it could be a good bonding experience.”(or Draco is a double spy completely convinced Harry goes out of his way to make his job that much harder-like seriously how hard was it to not go after something big and dangerous?)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: harry potter but dark and gay [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706284
Comments: 44
Kudos: 400





	1. The Blonde with Never-Ending Headache

**Author's Note:**

> first drarry fic oh boy here we go TW; THIS DOES CONTAIN CHILD ABUSE AND IT WILL GET WORSE AS THE SERIES CONTINUES BE WARNED

The last thing Draco Malfoy thought he would find himself doing two months before his second year at Hogwarts begins is cowering from his father and grappling for his wand. Yes, he had failed in getting Harry Potter to be his friend, yes his father knew all about it, yes it was a mistake not to come up with a better lie. No, he has not learned his lesson. 

“Disgrace!” Lucius snarks, green flying from the tip of his wand. If he were bad at dueling this would be a problem, but given his last name, blocking is in his nature. He tries to direct the curse back, a mistake given how his father reacts to the scorch marks over his head. “How _dare you?!_ I am your father!”

“I’m sorry! I truly did try, father, but Potter and I-”

Lucius grabs him by his throat before he has time to react, hauling him back like something snapped. One look into Draco’s eyes after his head slams into the wall and he comes back. Almost like he too had been thrown into himself, albeit not quite as literally. Eyes wide and horror twisting his features, the man freezes. 

For a moment there is nothing for the two males to do but stare.

And then Lucius wraps his arms around his son to whisper a thousand apologies. “I am sorry, Draco, I don’t know what’s come over me. My mark burns everyday, the Dark Lord will no doubt return soon, and I need you to be on his good side when he does. I will not see my son tortured by even the most powerful of men, you must forgive me for losing myself at the thought.” 

Because he is a good son, one that can’t bear the thought of his father hurting, Draco nods. “Of course, Father. I have failed both you and the Dark Lord. I do not deserve your kindness.”

Lucius shakes his head, “My dear boy, you deserve all the kindness your mother and I have to offer. As for the Dark Lord, I have a new plan to please him. If Potter refuses to become your friend, we shall wipe out his other options and aid his Darkness in his return.”

A sinking feeling overcomes the brief relief that had floated through Draco, if his father was scheming, it meant the headache from first year would pale in comparison. “And how shall we do that?”

When Lucius smiles, Draco has half a mind to brew up pain relief potion the second he leaves the room. Or rather a few vials of it, after he hears the plan in full. Hell, he might as well just fill his trunk with the bloody stuff at this point.

Some bloke named Tom’s diary, a boring old book with a boring old look that of course held a portion of You-Know-Who’s power. Slip it into one of his classmate’s bags and something called the Chamber, sounds a little bit like a weird club house, would be open, and though his father couldn’t place what kind of beast was inside it, he knew it wouldn't be pleasant. Leave it to Lucius to ruin what he thought would be a somewhat peaceful year. Couldn’t he just play Quidditch and mind his business? Keep watch every-so-often? Have nothing to report about his family other than his mother’s favorite tea set being broken? This whole ‘situation’ of his is quickly turning into a nightmare. But, given that he himself is a Slytherin, and self-proclaimed most cunning of them all, Draco will simply have to deal with this quickly. 

After all, if Harry Potter isn’t at school this year, that's one less thing for Draco to worry about while trying to keep all the dirty muggleborns from being killed. Would he normally care? No. But this time, if they were to die, if even one of them perished, it might be enough for another Dark Lord to rise. Call him sane, but Draco knows better than to let that happen. A marvelous plan, really, get someone to keep Potter away from Hogwarts, and the rest would be easier without him sticking his stupid scar-face where it doesn’t belong. 

As soon as Draco is released from his father’s study he makes his way to his room. It can’t be someone close to Potter, the idiot only has about two friends anyways, and it can’t be Draco because, well, that would just come off as a threat and make sure he _did_ come. Not a Professor, although Snape would no doubt get joy from keeping Potter at bay from what he wants. It has to be someone Potter has never met, someone he can trust. Someone who wouldn’t betray Draco, maybe a wizard bound by an oath, maybe a-

“Master Draco? Your father sent me to check on your wounds, sir. Said you mustn't be pickin’ at them too much, sir.”

Cold grey eyes latch on to cold grey skin. Dobby peers up at him, bandages in tow and a worried pinch badly concealed in his brow. Small, not threatening, skinny and dressed in shame, big eyes that made Draco himself feel a little guilty when he commanded the elf too harshly, not to mention the anger he felt after his father had a fit of rage. The elf that had been with him since birth, the one that never asked questions when he needed something dubious, never sold him out on his pranks, his father still didn’t know the truth about how his favorite robe had gotten turned red instead of green. Dobby, his house-elf, was looking to be the exact partner he needed for this year’s troubles. 

“Dobby. If I ask you to do me a favor, and not tell anyone, one that is very dangerous and could get us both in a lot of trouble, maybe even killed, would you do it?”

The elf blinks up at him like it was the stupidest thing he’d ever been asked.

“Dobby cannot refuse his master’s orders, Master.”

“Even if it requires going against one of your other masters?”

Dobby nods, “Dobby is loyal to Master Draco. Whatever Dobby is asked by master, Dobby will do.”

Draco graces him with a smile, a small crass gesture to his father’s way of politics. Ruling with an iron fist is tacky to say the least. Sliver went so much better with his aesthetic, besides, Draco’s always seen better results in loyalty if the person isn’t, say, an abusive asshole governed by the mistakes of his past that just so happened to lead him to quite literally selling his soul. Not to be specific, of course. 

Dobby is an excellent subject matter in the case of loyalty. By all measures, he should be bound to Lucius, forced to do his bidding and take to Draco and his mother separately. And yet countless times he has gone against his father’s rules for one, if not both, of them. Something about kindness being better than intolerance is in that, but Draco prefers to chalk it up to simple luck. Pure things like ‘kindness’ and ‘gentleness’ were something Draco hadn’t had since he was a child. He couldn’t have them now, not with the path he’d signed up for.

“And Dobby,” he finishes, hours later after he’s obtained enough ingredients for a headache potion to last him all year long, all the while filling his little grey minion in with what details he figures won’t hurt, giving out very explicit instructions, “I don’t care what you have to do, but Harry Potter can not be harmed. He cannot be at school this year, or he will die. Is that understood?” 

Apparently very familiar with the threat of death and the importance of one Scar-Face, Dobby nods. Draco checks around for any signs of life as they vanish out the back door and into the night, walking just to the edge of the wards, they’ll have to step out at the same time in order for Draco to hide the fact that a house-elf has left the manor grounds. A small price to pay for the life of the Chosen Brat. 

“Be careful, I’ll cover for you, but you must be back before sunrise, or Father will notice that someone else prepared his breakfast. While you’re gone, I’ll see if I can come up with something to slip you past the wards so this is all a little easier. Okay?”

“Yes, master.”

Draco nods, taking one nervous look over his shoulder, and then turning back to the elf. “The three most important things about all this are?”

Dobby recites them like they’ve been branded onto his body. “Number one, Harry Potter mustn’t be allowed to return to Hogwarts this year, because there is danger, but Dobby shouldn’t be showing himself to Mister Potter, and should only be discouraging from afar. Number two, nobody is to be knowing what house Dobby belongs to, especially not that Master Draco sent Dobby to Mister Potter. Number three, Dobby is not to be talking about this to anyone other than Master Draco, because it is dangerous.”

Three deep breaths and a ‘good luck’ later, Draco nods to the elf. They each place a foot forward, alarms sound right as Dobby disappears and Draco prays he somehow gets away with all this. 

\----------

The best way to get to know your enemy is by studying them, and then form a plan of action. Naturally, Harry Potter turns out to live a rather miserable life that leaves Draco questioning Dumbledore’s sanity more than he usually does. Three muggles live with Potter, and Dobby described the kid’s situation to be 'similar to Dobby's, Master Draco!' But simply taking the boy’s mail had not been enough to derail his need to return to the school, and given that only two weeks are left, it is time for Dobby to interact. 

Draco knows more about Harry Potter than he cares to at the moment, which is his own fault really. Two of his housemates are extremely overweight, all three of them ugly and annoying as all get out. Always on about something trivial, always being rude to Potter, Draco's actually beginning to pity the boy, which is exactly how he knows he had heard enough. 

“Remember, Dobby, he _cannot_ know about who sent you, you must not give him any clues, and he cannot come to school this year.”

Dobby’s ears flop as he nods, and then wiggle while he disappears. 

Draco hangs his head, the light pinch already building up behind his brow, but he can’t worry about that now, not when his father is calling him down to the ground floor for tea with the family portraits. It’s almost like talking to demons, but it’s never enough to crack his perfected smile, and even better façade. He feels almost bad for sending the elf off without checking on him first. That morning, his father had been particularly cruel to anyone within three feet of him, it was unfortunate for both of them that neither had been allowed to leave his side until noon. Dobby was particularly hysterical, and gone off not much better. Which means there is a very big chance that Dobby will slip up, perhaps fail, maybe injure Potter by accident. The thought worries him until the elf’s return.

Then Draco feels a different guilt, one for probably sticking Harry Potter in a very unpleasant spot, one he was understanding more and more as the days drug on. Constantly reminding himself that he's only doing this to save Harry Potter’s life, he counts down the days until he can start packing for Hogwarts. It's more of a home than the Manor is lately. 

Exactly one week before his departure, his father remembers that there _are_ things he needs before the year began, which is how Draco finds himself entering some shop that holds all his father’s dirty little wishes. They can't bring anything home, not with the Ministry's inspections, but now that he thinks about it, that's probably the whole reason they're here. Too much darkness in one home or something like that.

“Touch nothing, Draco.”

He fights the urge to roll his eyes similar to the artificial eyeball that catches his attention. “I thought you were buying me a present?” 

It had been a lie, they both know it, and yet to question him in public was something he knows he’ll pay for later. 

“I promised to buy you a racing broom.”

This time Draco does roll his eyes. Less at his father, and more because he feels someone hiding and watching. Probably waiting for one of them to slip. For Lucius to snap or for Draco to give up his little act. He huffs, crossing his arms. Whatever asshole is trying to ruin his reputation will have to wait until another day. He has the look of a selfish bastard to uphold, thank you very much.

Spouting something no doubt unflattering about Potter as he examines a set of skulls, at least two of them fake, how tacky, Draco moves closer to the eyes that are surely watching him. His father replies, not that he notices, staring at items useful for his actual survival taking his focus verses the conversation between his father and the shopkeeper.

Although he does almost let out a snort when his father pretends to give a damn about the ministry. He idly wonders what the Ministry would do should they discover his father's Dark Collection. 

Draco nearly chokes imaging Fudge's face. 

It’s that image that leads his smirking face to a peculiar hand resting on a tattered cushion. The Hand of Glory, it would be perfect for his midnight watches, he could use it to sneak around the castle. His plans to get rid of whatever beast his father planned on unlocking needed that artifact. It's said to be the end of footfalls, vanquisher of sound, to make the owner completely unnoticeable when they need to be.

“Can I have that?”

“Ah! The Hand of Glory!” Mr.Borgin rushes to explain-like Draco doesn’t already know- but the second the words ‘friend of thieves’ leaves the man’s mouth, he knows he’ll never be allowed to have it. Rising to bait his son is something Lucius would never pass, and his grades are sensitive enough a topic to have Draco red and annoyed.

“It’s not my fault.” he hisses, but he can’t very well tell his father the truth about why his grades had slipped the previous year, so he settles for a quick jab at someone who _had_ been at the top of their class. Forgive him if he's somewhat annoyed that a person who just recently joined the wizarding world knew more about it than himself, drilled from the second he was born. 

He doesn’t listen to his father’s comeback in an effort to reclaim himself, particularly because he heard a noise that shouldn’t be in a shop like this. Something that sounds suspiciously familiar. Making his way around, trying to follow where the sound had come from. Whoever was spying on him would regret it if it was the last thing he did. He can't believe he let himself forget about their little sow watcher, all for a stupid fucking trinket-

“Come, Draco.”

Oh well, on the plus side he can probably sneak back in later to get what he wanted. 

As punishment for speaking against him in public, Lucius forces him towards the commotion of stupid, mush-for-brains Lockheart. Dazzling smile, charming to anyone who looks at him for too long, and probably the most annoying adult he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting. And because having to listen to the man drone on and on about how wonderful he is isn’t enough, Harry bloody Potter walks through the doors.

Draco can practically feel his father’s giddiness, but his own irritation is much more prevalent.

Harry bloody Potter is supposed to be locked in a muggle bedroom, safe and very far away from the Wizarding World, not posing for the bloody Daily Prophet. He’s fuming for more reason than one the entire time Lockheart is speaking and maybe it’s the fact that he feels guilty, or the fact that Potter is not fucking supposed to be here right now, or maybe even the snotty voice grating on his ears. He’s really unsure why he does it, but there he is, sneering and snarling out some remark he can’t take it back.

Which is a problem seeing as he can’t remember what comment he made in the first place but Harry is staring at him, so he carries on like he does know what he’s doing.

“ _Famous_ Harry Potter,” he begins, making a conscious effort to keep his eyebrow from twitching. Thanks to the bloody Daily Prophet anyone and everyone who wanted to help with his father’s little scheme would have a clear target now. There’s no telling how much trouble Draco is in. “Can’t even go into a _bookshop_ without making the front page.” 

He’s so irritated he doesn’t even notice the baby Weasley until she’s glaring right back at him. “-he didn’t want any of that.” 

So that’s why Potter has been so insistent about coming back, bloody git has someone special. Bloody annoying. “Potter you’ve got yourself a _girlfriend_ .” The girl blushes, Potter on the other hand, seemed very confused about the whole thing. That makes two of them, but before he can ponder over why it’s relieving that Potter doesn’t have someone special, Granger and Weasley Weasley come running and his headache stabs him. This is _not_ how he expected to end his shopping trip. 

“Oh it’s you.” The redhead states, like anyone else would be stupid enough to bother Potter in public. “Bet you’re surprised to see Harry here, eh?”

Fear grips him. Did Dobby tell? How did Weasley know? What else had the elf told them? How the fuck was he going to explain this to his father? “Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley” he lets his anger reply for him, “I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all of those.”

Red rushes to meet red and for a second Draco actually starts to feel bad. And then Weasley starts towards him and for a moment he actually kinda hopes he’ll leave the place with a black eye, then his father wouldn’t be as ruthless tonight. Of course Harry bloody Potter has to hold him back right as Father Weasley appeared. Surely this can’t be good for his migraine. 

“Ron! What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

Draco couldn’t agree more. He almost thanks the man when the four people in front of him step away, but that's before he see Potter’s eyes widen and feels a firm hand digging into his collarbone. 

“Well, well, well,-” _oh fuck_ “-Arthur Weasley?”

Bloody hell, of course his father had to pick the end of an argument to show up from whatever corner he’d slinked off to. With his mood from Draco’s attitude this morning it's only a matter of time before Mr.Weasley- he's pushed aside as the father of the pack throws himself at Lucius. Oh, Draco will pay for that later. At least they're moving away from the children and not towards them….but that's equally as bad because soon they're all but thrown out by Hagrid of all people. It's only when they arrived back at the Manor, after a particularly vicious beating, his father _does_ hug him and promises that he loves his son, does Draco find Dobby and drill him. 

“You promised me you wouldn't tell!”

“I did not! Dobby would never betray Master Draco!”

“Then explain to me how _Ronald Weasley knows!”_ Thankfully, he remembered to put silencing spells around his room before shouting. 

Dobby turns to stare at him in horror before promptly picking up his textbook and ramming it into his head. “Dobby has failed! Dobby has failed Master!”

_Bloody hell…_

An hour later and Dobby has finally calmed, walking him through every second of his interaction with Potter. He spends hours going over every little detail, making sure there is no evidence to lead back to himself. If his father doesn't kill him once he finds out, Severus most certainly would. Eventually he draws it up to being blamed for everything, which he deserves for being a giant ass to everyone, he supposes. 

“It’s alright, Dobby.” he says for the millionth time, “I’d probably be blamed for Weasley’s red hair if he was angry enough, we just have to cut Potter off at the platform.”

Surely that will work, right?

\----------

They manage to cut him off at the last second and for the first time since he started school, Draco’s head feels wonderful. He’s sitting in his cabin, Crabbe and Goyle too stupid to make conversation that makes any form of sense, and Blaise too involved in some book to bother talking. Staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by, it’s calming. Comforting. Something about the green hills and clear sky eases his mind and his anxiety. It’s nice enough for Pansy to look up and smile at him. “Enjoying yourself, Draco?”

She’s one of the few people that manage to make his name sound like it isn't an insult or a praise. Just pure ‘Draco’, no intent behind it. One of the many, many reasons he values her friendship so much. 

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think.”

Pansy nods, “I’d give anything to paint it, shame I left my things inside my trunk.”

“We’ll be at the castle soon.”

The two of them turn back towards the window at the exact time a car flies by. Heads whip back and forth, they blink at each other and then Pansy speaks and suddenly his headache is back full force.

“Was that Harry bloody Potter?”

 _You have to be joking._ Surely not in a flying car. Surely he's more sensible than that. Even so they rush out and press against the nearest window to see a flash of black and orange in the front seat of a _fucking flying car._

Because he is stupid and forgot that while Harry fucking Potter lacks most, if not all, common sense, he had left him with Ron fucking Weasley, the most ignorant and air-headed wizard of their time. 

Taking one last look out the window to make sure he is, in fact, not hallucinating the whole event, Draco turns on his heel and starts for his luggage. He'll need his head-pain relieving potion sooner than he thought. 


	2. Bitter like Lemons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The problem with myths, Severus, is that there are often truths in them. And unfortunately for all of us, the Chamber is about as much a myth as the night sky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! this chapter kinda gives you a better idea about the relationship between Draco and the others. Also I thought my little evil baby deserved actual friends

“Professor” 

Despite the annoyance still clouding his every atom, Draco can’t fight the smile at seeing Snap’s face. Equally irritated, equally dead inside, and Draco’s favorite person in the entire school, perhaps even the world. Snape greets him with an inclined head, an eyebrow raising at being approached before he'd had a chance to have dinner. 

“Malfoy. How was your summer?”

Secretly code for: it’s good to see you’re not dead or sorry I couldn’t visit

“We can speak on that later, I have two very urgent questions for you.”

Snape switches his brow’s height, the right one springing up as the left one burrows down, “Get on with it then.” 

He knows he should probably tell him about Potter first, but the golden trunks being carried past him is a little, if not completely impossible, to ignore. And, if it's possible, more annoying.

“Tell me, Professor,” he lowers his voice, “Tell me that insufferable git isn’t really the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He’s a show pony at best, one of the girls will probably jump him before break. Not to mention that a half-wit has more of a brain than he can hope for.”

There’s amusement playing in Snape’s eyes, the smallest of grins, a mere twitch upwards of his lips that’s basically the same as getting a full smile from the man. His voice shows none of this.

“Why, Draco, you should know better than to speak of your professors, no matter how much of a _thick-headed, witless, oaf_ they may be. Lockheart has been through much, if you read his books you’ll clearly see where a cell or two has been knocked out, perhaps so hard it would be foolish to assume he has anything left.”

Stifling his laughter behind clearing his throat, Draco prepares to see a face that will have him smirking in class for weeks. “I believe you’re quite right, sir. My second question is more of a personal one, you see, I was hoping you’d tell me how you felt about flying cars?”

It’s priceless, the way everything about Snap freezes and he can almost see the flaring up of nerves right above the other man’s eyeballs. He can pinpoint it by now with how many Potter-head-pains he’s had. Before his beloved godfather can run wild with his question, Draco provides a bit more context just so he can fully share his pain with someone.

“By that of course I mean, Harry Potter and flying cars. I do believe his stunt will be all over muggle news in the morning, do you think they’ll claim it to be a UFO?”

Snape suddenly has murder in his eyes and Draco almost nods in approval before smirking his nastiest smirk.

“He did _not_ fly a car across London.”

“Oh, Professor, he _did._ ”

Draco holds out a copy of the rolled up newspaper he’d grabbed on the way into the school where, for all of the wizarding world to see, was Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, driving their car right over a muggle home. 

“You know, Draco,” Snape whispers, making sure no one is around before he growls out, “Whatever your father is trying to pull this year might not work because I’ve decided I’m going to kill Potter first.”

And because he too is suffering the same as his elder, Draco merely nods in pity, steering them both to Dumbledore’s office. They take maybe three steps away from the dinning hall where people are beginning their meal right as Nevil Longbottom of all people rushes past them, straight to the mops of red hair.

“Harry and Ron just flew a car into the Whomping Willow!”

They both freeze, taking in a very deep breath. Draco makes an effort to count backwards from ten before he meets a stone cold _furious_ face. 

“Do you think I could give you a hand with killing him? I promise to behave in Potions if you do. Really, Professor, I think it could be a good bonding experience.” 

—————

Snape, unfortunately, does not let him sneak into his office when he chews the two idiots out, nor does he say anything more than ‘yes, he’s safe’ and ‘no, you are not allowed to hex him’ followed by ‘get out of my office Draco, it’s past curfew’. 

The pent up worry doesn’t uncurl from his gut until he sees Harry Potter the next day at breakfast, in the middle of the table with, thankfully, no injuries and a flustered Wealsey beside him. He tries to keep his irritation to a minimum, staring over his morning fruit with a somewhat murderous glare Pansy is surely making a face at. Friendly conversation distracts him from the Daily Prophet’s ‘exclusive’ interview with his lying father, but it’s much harder to ignore the front page where the flying car moves. Merlin, he’s going to _kill_ the idiot behind him. Kill him before Lucius and the Dark Lord and Snape all combined. Once he gets his hands on stupid Potter he’ll-

“ _RONALD WEASLEY”_

Draco almost drops his paper right into his morning tea, turning much like every other student in the dining hall to openly gawk at Weasley, who, much to his personal amusement, has a howler. Oh his morning just got so much better.

“ _-YOU WAIT TIL I GET HOLD OF YOU-”_

Much to his disbelief, Draco finds himself almost sympathetic to Molly Weasley, although he would also very much like to see the exact moment Mrs. Weasley ‘got hold’ of her son. Perhaps there was a spell to transform him into a fly on the wall. He’d stoop to the level if it meant getting to see more of Weasley shrinking into his bench.

“ _-YOU AND HARRY COULD HAVE BOTH DIED!-”_

Finally, someone who had his exact thought. This was almost better than his fantasy of Snape’s lecture.

“ _-PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!”_

The smile falls away from Draco’s face at the wistful dream. If only it could be so easy to get Potter home. Whatever his father had planned hadn’t started yet, but some nagging feeling told him it wouldn’t take long. With that thought a sudden funk came over him. Completely and utterly unfair, something akin to sadness maybe? He can never spend too much time on it before Pansy notices. 

“Come off it, Draco.” She shakes him gently, “It’s time for class.”

“Can’t we just skip? I know you don’t actually like Ancient Ruins, and I can think of many better things to do than pretend to listen in Herbology.” 

Pansy swats him on the arm, “Please, we both know your father will have your head if your grades are as bad as they were last year. At least try to make an effort, I hate to think about what might happen to you otherwise.”

The mere thought of his father is enough to snap his colder features back into place. To his side, he can see Pansy approving nod, but he’s much too busy painting on the look of a proper Malfoy.

“Crabbe. Goyle. Let’s go.”

It hardly takes any time to reach the greenhouses once he drowns out the blithering idiots beside him. It does, however, take an immense amount of effort not to scoff in Lockheart’s face as he flaunts about in front of Scar Face. 

“Harry, Harry, Harry. I _understand_ ”

He would puke if he didn’t find the look of pure frustration on Potter’s face somewhat therapeutic. Granted, the face did come with the price of listening to the golden asshole speak, so it was as much of a loss as it was a win. Professor Sprout cut him off before Draco could reach the hexing point.

As much as seeing Lockheart scurry out of the room made him happy, it didn’t last long. Not with screaming Mandrakes and Granger being an insufferable know it all. As she speaks Draco wonders how many OWLs she’ll have under her belt before she leaves Hogwarts. The usual limit was 12, the amount he planned on taking if he survived the next few years, but she would no doubt find a way to double it. How completely unfair.

Classes passed one after another, and before he could blink twice his father’s owl was before him at lunch, a package attached. The whole thing caused quite the scene, but not as much as Draco’s pure, unfiltered smile at the Nimbus 2001 before him.

_My dearest Draco,_

_I hope to find you in good health. Your mother has just returned from her summer trip to Paris, and talked me into this. Attached you will find the broom I promised over summer, there is one for every Quidditch member in Slytherin. I assume you realize I approve of your desire to outmatch Potter. It will no doubt provide a wonderful distraction as my plan begins. Soon, Draco, we will have the Dark Lord’s favor once again._

_Write home quickly, your mother misses you_

_Love always, Father._

Draco pales at first, but quickly begins his bragging, tucking the letter tightly in his pocket and coming up with some excuse he half remembers. He needs to get to Dumbledore and Snape. _Now._ If his father’s plan were to begin soon they had to be ready. They couldn’t afford to wait, what if someone were to die? What if Potter-

“-And then, could you sign it?”

The annoying voice of a first-year, no doubt about that, sneaks him back to the present where Scar Face seems trapped, his friends holding back laughter. What a nuisance...then the reality of what’s being said slaps away fear with his most familiar emotion around Potter: breathtaking agitation.

“ _Signed photos?_ You’re giving out _signed photos,_ Potter?”

It’s like the idiot doesn’t even care that people are out to kill him! Doesn’t he know how dangerous it is for him to be here? Draco went through so much, risked so fucking much just to protect his stupid ass, and he’s giving away _fucking signed photos?!_

“Line up everyone!” he roars, completely gone to his anger now. He doesn’t even care that a crowd is forming. “Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!”

At least Potter has the decency to look ashamed, although the horror of everyone looking at him is much funnier. “No I’m not! Shut up, Malfoy.” 

The way his last name is pronounced, like the worst possible kind of insult is almost enough of a blow to make him snark just one comment and walk away. Of course, it doesn’t play out that way because the stupid first-year glares at him.

“You’re just jealous!”

“ _Jealous?!”_ Of the boy who’s ass he constantly had to look after? Of the idiot with a scar he could never hide? He knows he should stop, Snape is going to have a row with him over this later, but he’s started and can’t stop now.

“Of what? I don’t want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you special!” 

Hurt flashes across Potter’s face and he has to remind himself of why it’s better that way. His mouth is moving towards whatever remark is thrown at him, and he knows he’s throwing it back just as harsh. But Draco keeps his eyes trained on Potter’s face. He doesn’t look arrogant, or even happy. He looks tired. Worn down, like merely existing at that point in time is too much. Supposedly, abuse will do that to you. Draco wonders if he ever has that look on his face, surely Pansy would’ve told him to hide it. If not Weasley’s wand pointing at his nose surely said he was doing a good job of keeping it hidden. 

_Oh fuck,_ Weasley’s pointing his want right at his nose. This is not going to end well.

“What’s all this? What’s all this?” Lockheart asks, coming up behind them. As if the moment couldn’t get any worse. The blinding spot of gold pulls Harry into him, and Draco would feel bad if he didn’t have to get his note to Snape and then head to his last class. He’s much too busy for this, and why he stoops to this level he’ll never understand, much like he could never get why being mean to Potter was so difficult sometimes. 

For starters, he had to go down to Snape’s office because he would have a class when he was needed most, and then he had to almost run to make it in time for Defense Against the Dark Arts, which meant he had no time at all to prepare his mind for the foulness of Lockheart parading about and making them take a quiz about his _favorite fucking color_ of all things. Really, where _did_ Dumbledore find his teachers?

Because his day hasn’t been awful enough, Lockheart also decides to release Cornish Pixies, just for the fun of seeing his students terrorized with no way for him to stop it. Draco would make a comment about this, but he’s a little preoccupied with Crabbe and Goyle forcing him out of the room. He can’t wait to fall into bed tonight. 

—————

A hand is at his throat...cold eyes lock onto his.

He can’t breathe, he’s choking, he can see Dobby limp on the floor….the elf is covered in some red shiny substance….

_Blood._

Why can’t he catch his breath? What is wrong with-he’s choking. He’s being choked.

_Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck_

He meets his father’s eyes “ _Disgrace!”_

A wand is at this throat, “ _Cur-”_

He is woken up by Flint, “Good morning, Draco, care to join the rest of your team on the practice field this morning?”

The world takes a second to gather around him. No light comes in through the dungeon walls, which makes it that much harder to focus. He can breathe this time, an improvement. A majority of his roommates are asleep, curtains drawn with a spell or two to keep them out. His are also shut, but knowing that his apparent captain stands behind them is enough for Draco to sit up and throw them open. 

“Excuse me? " He chokes, "I haven’t even tried out?”

Flint raises his eyebrow, “Not to be frank, but your father’s presents will mean more to the team, plus we’ve all seen you fly, we know you have the talent. No one else wants to be Seeker, and that’s what we need. Are you in or not? Snape’s already cleared the field to get you some practice time, it would be a shame not to let the others sleep just because you haven’t made up your mind.”

That still doesn’t make everything as clear as he’d like it to be, but if Snape is in on it, surely it couldn’t be that bad. Everyone deserves something small that made them happy, right? It was okay if he took this small bit of happiness, right?

“I’m in, just give me a moment to get dressed.”

The second Flint is gone he all but jumps out of bed. He hasn’t been this excited since his first train ride, last year, before all this mess. He gets to play. He gets something he’s dreamed about since he was a kid, a real life dream come true. And if he wasn’t good, he would train, every day, for as long as he could, anything to keep the sudden rush of _good_ emotions. He hasn’t felt positive things in so long, just stress and worry and annoyance. 

Here, with his team smirking at him and thanking him for the brooms, he feels welcome. None of them know, or even care, about the Dark Lord. As they walk to the pitch he can feel the troubles melt away, talking about plays, exchanging gloats and other meaningless ticks that only Slytherins would get. It’s somewhat comforting, to be around his people, ones with brains, ones who don’t care about his name because he’s the youngest and most inexperienced of them all. A level of respect is there, sure, but not in the way Crabbe and Goyle mindlessly agree to everything, Flint actually snorts at one of his remarks. Being treated like a human being for once feels amazing, and it ends the second Oliver Wood comes flying towards them.

Of course Harry Potter and his fellow Gryffindors would be here to ruin it all. 

His team crowds around him like they can feel his discomfort, like they're trying to protect him against the disappointment creeping under his skin. 

“You’ve got a new Seeker? Where?”

The Slytherins tense up around him, and he can’t have that. Relations shouldn’t be tense like this, it isn’t good politics. So, Draco takes a deep breath and paints on his best smirk before stepping out next to Flint, who makes sure to stay a protective bit in front of him. 

“Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?”

Naturally, the Weasley twins would bring up the thing that makes him the most uncomfortable when he's already anxious, but before he can react Flint is sneering.

“Funny you should mention Draco’s father.” The rest of the team takes casual steps closer, “Let me show you the generous gift he’s made to the Slytherin team.”

He clues in with the rest of the team, holding out their broomsticks as Flint continues to take charge, keeping up an air that only Slytherins could produce. Proud, probably obnoxious, definitely pompous, and in every way the perfect deflect from Draco’s nerves, he really owed them later. Right as he’s beginning to get a hold of himself, Granger and Weasley walk onto the field, and if they’re here that means Draco will be perfectly fine. He can deal with pests like these. 

“I’m the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley.” Draco answers to whatever crudeness had been said, “Everyone’s just been admiring the brooms my father’s bought the team.”

Shock, then pure anger crosses both of their faces, and then Granger points out the obvious, “At least no one had to _buy_ their way onto our team. They have something called talent.”

Draco barely conceals a flinch, luckily his teammates bunch up for him, getting slightly closer which gives him the courage to feel something other than burning shame; anger.

It’s out of his mouth before he can take it back, his father’s favorite insult, it horrifies him the second it leaves his tongue. He feels too much like his father when he says it, so much it actually frightens him, and then Flint is in front of him and someone is firing a spell.

Draco closes his eyes, reaching to undo whatever had been done to his team, but then Flint starts to chuckle.

Somehow, with luck even worse than his own, Ronald Weasley had managed to backfire his own spell, and now knelt on the field spitting up slugs. He couldn’t hold back his pearls of laughter even if he wanted to. After this, at least he wouldn’t be too upset about the car thing. 

Potter collects his friends as the red and gold retreat. Once they’re gone, Flint turns to grab him by the shoulders.

“Listen, Draco. Don’t let what they said get to you, alright? We all know you’re a good flyer, now we’ve just got to prove you’re more than money too.”

Draco nods. “Thank you, for standing up for me, Crabbe and Goyle usually just stand there.”

The team snorts at that, Adrian Pucey actually ruffles his hair. “Don’t you know that’s all they're good for? Haven’t got half the brain that Filch does, and that’s saying something.”

“Seriously, Draco, the money is one thing, but the face Harry Potter will make when we win the match will be so much better. Let’s get in the sky boys!”

Finding himself smiling, and maybe a little more hopeful for this year, Draco hops onto his broom. If he couldn’t beat Potter into the ground with his wand in exchange for every heart attack the idiot’s given him, he could at least beat him in Quidditch

—————

The evening finds him in Dumbledore’s office, Snape and the letter in hand, Fawkes peering at him trying to figure out if it's worth moving or not. Draco makes the decision for him, moving closer to pet the creature while the headmaster reads.

“Soon, then? Have we any clue as to what Lucius is up to? What could he want with our students?”

“There’s no way of knowing with the Dark Lord, Headmaster, he could very well possess a student before it’s all said and done.”

Draco shakes his head, “Isn’t that a bit much even for him? I think heavy influence is the most likely, after all he would need a solid form to possess someone, right? I’ve heard it’s almost impossible to refuse him once he’s in front of you.”

”Either way, we need to do something to ensure the students‘ safety.”

Dumbledore mules over this from behind his tiny glasses. The office hasn’t changed much from last year. Still bright and cheery, filled to the brim with odds and bits that delight him to no end. Fawkes perches on his shoulder as he takes in a new ornament or two, waiting for his owner to respond.

“Has Lucius told you anything?”

“He’s told me the usual, hate Potter, please the Dark Lord. Apparently, at some point You-Know-Who was merely a student called ‘Tom Riddle’, father’s been particularly obsessed with getting a diary of his. Say’s it holds some of his power, although I’m not sure how much or if it even exists. He got some ratty old book, but there was nothing written in it. I went looking for it but apparently he sold it to Mr. Borgin as a part of our family cleanse. Although, he did mention the Chamber of Secrets….”

Dumbledore physically pales, something he never thought the man capable of. Snape shakes his head, another very bad sign. “The Chamber? Surely not, I thought that was a myth Albus.”

“The problem with myths, Severus, is that there are often truths in them. And unfortunately for all of us, the Chamber is about as much a myth as the night sky.”

Draco turns on his heel, careful enough not to disrupt Fawkes who squakes anyways. “So it does exist then? What he told me is true, and the last time it was opened-”

“Yes, Draco. The last time it was open, Riddle had done it himself. A muggle was killed then, it almost shut down the school. They were difficult times, and if it is opened again...I fear the worst, for both Mr.Potter and ourselves. Not even I know the beast Salazar Slytherin has bread down there…”

As if feeling the panic growing, Fawkes burrows into his arms. Quiet stretches between them, each lost in a different train of thought. If the chamber is opened...someone will die...and that someone might be Potter, the only chance they have against the Dark Lord. And if there is an even bigger possibility that Hogwarts will shut down, that means there’s a chance he will have to return to the manor, where Dumbledore cannot protect him. Bleaker than this morning, Draco meets the headmaster’s eyes. He’s rewarded with a kind smile and another nuzzle from the Phoenix in his arms.

“Come now, we wouldn’t want to miss dinner. I heard they’re serving lemon pudding tonight.”

“Should we sneak some back for Fawkes, Headmaster?” 

Dumbledore smirks watching his bird side eye him from his new found position on Draco’s left arm.

“We might as well, he should enjoy a treat before his rebirth, don’t you think?”

Snape looks at them both like they’ve gone mad, rolling his eyes and sweeping out of the room. “Honestly, you’d think Severus would enjoy lemons with how much they have in common.”

Draco nods, grinning at the jab, “It _was_ strange to find out how much he likes chocolate.”

“You’re more alike than you know, then.”

“Are you calling me bitter, sir?” A smile lingers behind Dumbledore’s innocent eyes, so Draco pretends offense. “I’ll have you know I love lemons. The tarts here are my favorites.”

“Why Draco, that just means you have good taste.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm excited for the next chapter so i hope you are! also thank you so much for the comments you all are wonderful and I really thought this wouldn't be interesting to anyone but here we are. thank you again and I look forward to seeing you in the next update


	3. Friends of Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! For mild abuse and anxiety!  
> also i had this idea that it's freaking halloween, it should be celebrating. and what better way to do that than dubious pranks among friends? (it's what i do to my friends on halloween, just without the magic bit.)

October proved to put him in a happier mood the closer that Halloween got. His team did great, and Flit was exactly right about him being a great flyer. With only his team on the field, he could find and grab the Snitch in five minutes, and once he realized his father was probably just being a forgotten threat again, he found himself actually enjoying his studies. Pansy and Blaise kept him company in the library, and in the common room his teammates would sometimes stop by his table and join him in studying. Snape even complimented him for his good grades, albeit in a roundabout way, but a compliment all the same. 

Currently he lays on his stomach on the floor of the Dumbledore’s office, pretending to read, but really playing with Fawkes like he came up here to do in the first place. Something about the rain pattering on the windows and the Phoenix sleeping beside him relaxes his shoulders, putting him in an ease he hasn’t had in a long time. Absently scratching at the small feathered head, he lets his mind wander to Potter, the one trouble constantly with him. He looked more relaxed than he did at the beginning of the year. Eyes brighter, but also more focused, like he was listening for something no one else could hear. Part of it worried him, but he knew better than to approach.

He’s Draco Malfoy, the person who hates Harry Potter most. No one would suspect him of being a spy for Dumbledore, no one would ever guess him of all people to go against his family. And no matter how much he wants to, he can not be friends with Potter. That would blow everything up, although he can’t help but wonder if it would be easier to keep the fool safe if he could persuade him like Granger and Weasley do. Potter obviously needs someone sensible to listen to…

“Something on your mind, Draco?”

Dumbledore eases his way into the room, walking casually like he isn’t wearing the very face that got Draco to cave in and tell him everything last year. Knowing there’s no way he’ll win a battle of wills with Albus Dumbledore, Draco rises to a sitting position.

“Would it really be so awful if Harry Potter and I became friends?”

Apparently not the answer Dumbledore was expecting. Mind you, Draco himself can’t really believe he said it outloud. 

“I was under the impression that you despise Mr.Potter.” 

Draco shakes his head, might as well tell the truth while he can. “Not necessarily. He just has a rather nasty talent of getting in trouble, I couldn’t help but think that maybe it would be easier to keep him safe if I was close enough to know about his plans _before_ they became life-threatening. I think if he wasn’t so busy giving me either a headache, heart-attack, or both we would probably get along. We’d have Quidditch to talk about. That’s enough to build a friendship right?”

Dumbledore offers him a sweet from his candy bowl, Draco’s favorite lemon drops, so he takes one, waiting for the answer to his question.

“It sounds like you already have your answer, why do you ask for my opinion? Should you desire to become Mr. Potter’s friend, it would be improper of me as Headmaster to stop you.”

“But sir, wouldn’t that jeopardize all of us here? If he and I became friends, he would find out everything, and would that not be a problem? Dangerous for all of us?”

“Well Draco, I assume you’d have to publicly choose a side for that to happen. And while it may not be ideal for intel, it may eventually be exactly what we need.”

The young boy snorts at that, “The day I publicly pick a side will be the day I admit my undying love for Potter, sir, which we both know doesn’t exist. I merely want him to stop being a constant thorn in my side.”

He doesn’t like the twinkle he gets back, “It is wise to never say never, afterall, no one can truly see the future, can they?”

Something about that sentence makes him uncomfortable enough to glance at his watch and shudder. Flint will kill him if he’s late to practice, especially if he planned on being at the Halloween fest in the Slytherin common room tomorrow. Excusing himself and making sure to give Fawkes a few good pets before he gathers his things and leaves, Draco ducks out the door and shakes his head. Surely the worry was getting to him. In what world would he and Potter be _friends_? 

—————

The Halloween fest lasts all day long for Slytherins, as they pick the day to be particularly cunning and dark. Everything from sneaking hexes into people’s food to scaring each other with silly tricks. In the morning he gets both Crabbe and Goyle with a few smoke bombs at the ends of their beds, they both pout the whole way to breakfast, but their reactions had been funny enough for Draco not to care. Flint almost gets him with a spell on his toast, no one would expect someone to like eating something sour, but this is Draco afterall. Pansy has the same idea as he does, both starling themselves before bursting into laughter at the cards nearly written word for word the same.

“I guess we are too close for comfort, hm?”

Draco struggles to catch his breath, “It’s like I have a clone.”

“Excuse you, I am _much_ better looking.”

Blaise gets caught up in it all next, one well timed water balloon hanging in the door of potions, but he gets Draco back in record time, both laughing against each other in the hallway. No one bothers the Slytherins today, too afraid of getting caught up in one of their favorite traditions. Pike gets hexed by someone, probably Milicent’s revenge for the time he called her fat. It’s all going well, the bunch of them sit together at dinner, sharing stories and it’s really the most fun he’s had in ages.

Blaise got Longbottom when he wasn’t looking, “Didn’t wanna be too mean with Mcgonagall standing right there, just a quick pantsing spell, he was wearing heart boxers.”

“You pantsed Longbottom? There’s poetry in that somewhere. Should’ve been wearing long-johns if you ask me. Certainly matches his name more.”

Draco howls with laughter as Pansy recounts that she got Percy Weasley with a surprise she left in Potions class, Snape had come and told her the experience was quite enjoyable. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t go after Potter,” Flint remarks towards the end of the meal.

He shrugs, “Couldn’t be bothered to ruin my perfectly good day.”

They all nod, and then Pike raises his glass. “Cheers to another great Halloween, mates.”

“Cheers.”

One last plan is in place for the night, just a small fun surprise for Snape. Maybe moving a few of his pictures, or putting a sign in his potion’s room. Something small and harmless that wouldn’t get them in too much trouble. He’s walking arm in arm with Blaise and Pansy, the rest trailing behind them as the plan starts to come together. So focused on the best way to get under Snape’s skin, Draco almost walks right into a bunch of Ravenclaws standing and staring at something.

_Fuck._

He pushes his way to the front of the crowd, shoving until he has a clear view of the wall and the threat written on it in fresh blood.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Draco can feel his teeth clench, looking around frantically for the idiot staring at a hanging cat with a scared look on his face. And then he sees Granger and Weasley beside him and he understands Potter’s fear. If a Slytherin made the chamber, his enemies would include muggle wizards, people who damaged the ‘pureblood’ name, someone exactly like Granger….A lump forms in Draco’s throat, if Harry is going to be at school during his father’s scheme, the least he can do is help protect those in danger.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware!” he calls out, hoping he sounds condescending and not scared out of his mind, “You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” 

He can barely contain his anger, shaking at the thought that his father was the person behind all this, if someone died, it would be his father’s fault. It blinds him with rage.

Dumbledore enters sometime later, Pansy pulls on his arm and Blaise makes an effort with his free hand. They start to pull him back to the common room just in time for Dumbledore to take Potter and his crew away. 

“Draco! We need to leave! Someone could think this is a part of the Slytherin pranks, we all need to be accounted for before that happens.”

He nods numbly, letting Pansy and Blasie take him away. 

It takes all of two anxious hours for Snape to summon him to the Headmaster’s office.

“Professor, this is probably about the worst thing that could’ve happened.”

“You’ve said that at least ten times, Draco. Sit down, Fawkes is getting worried.”

Draco shoots the two men a look before sitting down and having tea thrust into his hand from Snape. Dumbledore sighs deeply, taking in the condition of both the student and head of Slytherin.

“On the plus side, no one has blamed your house yet.”

The wrong thing to say if Draco’s expression was anything to go by. “They’re blaming Potter, like the fool would know about any of that. Most of them don’t even know the legend, but given that we have roughly a hundred copies of _Hogwarts; A History_ in the library, it won’t take them long.”

“That will surely be an issue, but you have things to worry about as well, Draco…”

He turns to face Snape, all irritated and fuming about Potter not being punished still. “Seriously? _Mudblood?_ In front of the entire school? I know you feel guilty, but that is just a bit much.”

Draco shrinks back into his chair, Dumbledore turning his glare onto the youngest in the room, “Draco. Surely you know that slur is not accepted in my castle.” 

“I know…”he admits, “I have trouble keeping up with everything and I was thinking too fast. If the heir of Slytherin had any enemies, anything that isn’t of pure magical descent is in danger….and my father means to hurt Potter. I just can’t tell if it’s directly or…”

Snape catches on uncomfortably quick. “You’re worried about Granger.”

“I’m worried about the whole school, really, but my father knows about Granger….and he despises the Weasleys...really any of their little group could be a target. And we all know how Potter gets when his friends are in danger...”

The three share a look, Draco wonders if the two adults have the same pressure building behind their eyes. 

This just got much more complicated. 

—————

Draco doesn’t see Potter clearly until their Quidditch match, and he somehow looks worse than before. Bags under his eyes, pale like he hasn’t slept and has he always been this thin? It’s worrying and distracting, neither things he can afford right now.

“Alright there Scar Face?” He calls out against his better judgement. Potter rolls his eyes, barely escaping the Bludger coming at him. Draco decides to ignore it and not scream about him being a mindless idiot in favor of looking for the Snitch, flying around in hopes of catching the stupid thing.

It’s exactly how he saw the same Bludger that he knows was coming to him fly right back to Potter. _You’ve got to be kidding me._ One look to the stands and he knows who it is, pale hair against a dark cloak, eyes cold and illusive. Lucius Malfoy, in the flesh. 

A shiver tears through Draco’s spine, his father wasn’t supposed to be here. He needs the Snitch and he needs it now. 

Rain has begun to fall again, right as a whistle is blown, someone had noticed the Bludger, someone was going to keep Potter safe, and right now it wouldn’t be him.

“Draco! Your dad came to watch! Aren’t you excited?” Flint asks when they hit the ground, all of them sending daggers to the other team.

“He’d probably be more excited if the other team hadn’t called something this early in the match.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco huffs, clearly in control of the dred creeping up his throat, “I’m perfectly thrilled that my father is here. Let’s give him a good show, right?” 

Flint raises an eyebrow, “Draco are you-”

Madam Hooch blows her whistle once more and they’re airborne, his eyes desperately searching. Naturally, because he is also stupid, he finds himself drawn to the other Seeker turning with just enough time for the Bludger to miss his head.

“Training for the ballet, Potter?” He yelled, trying to keep himself from screaming ‘can you go one damn day without being hurt?!’ or worse, ‘be careful my father is trying to kill you!’.

His thoughts were cut off when he hears a small buzzing by his left ear. Potter is looking at him a little differently than normal, which meant either he had shouted what he wanted-or the Snitch was by him. Draco turned his head the exact second something whirled past him and right into Potter. That captured all his attention, thoughts of the Snitch replaced by Potter’s arm hanging limp by his side, not comforting by any standards, even less so with the boy rushing towards him.

_What the fuck what the fuck_

“What the-” he barely made it out of the way, but the buzzing was gone, and Potter was chasing after it. So Draco followed. He vaguely saw Potter grab it right before he started falling to the mud. Much to his horror, the boy landed, held up the Snitch, and then fainted in front of every damn person available. 

His first instinct was to rush towards Potter, but one look up and he freezes. Lucius was watching. He couldn’t run and pretend to be concerned about a classmate with him here, instead he sped off to Madam Hooch, “Potter broke his arm, one of the Bludgers kept coming after him, I don’t know why but I know it got him good.” is all he manages to rush out before zipping back to his team. They watch, completely confused as Lockheart marches over to Potter, even from where he stands Draco can hear his fallen nuisance moan ‘Oh, no, not you.’

Then, the strangest thing happens. Lockheart, the massive brainless prick, takes his wand to Potter’s arm, and what had once been limp and out of place, hangs like a wet noodle. 

The Slytherin team look to each other with wide eyes, Draco thinks they look uncomfortably close to frogs at the moment.

“He….did he just….did he just take Potter’s bones?”

Flint pats him on the back, “You know what? I think he did.” 

“Better him than us though.”

And that is something Draco can agree with.

Flint doesn’t let him off the hook though, spinning him and pinning him to his spot with a raised eyebrow. Something about the Snitch being right there in front of his face, something about him being better than that, nothing Draco can focus on with his father entering the field. Draco cuts Flint off with an apology and a promise to do better before going to meet his fate. It’s not pretty.

“The family disappointment, I never lost a match in my year. You should be ashamed.”

“I apologize for embarrassing you, father, I was distracted.”

They stand in a secluded walkway between the field and the school, deserted enough that no one will hear their conversation, or him if he screams.

“By Potter no less,” Lucius sneers, “I thought I told you I would take care of that as long as you kept up your grades. I did not expect you to make an utter fool of yourself.”

Draco flinches at the tone, harsh and cold, just like- a hand caresses his cheek and pulls him away from his nightmares.

“I know you're scared of the beast in the Chamber, and you should be, but we are of pure blood, it will not harm you.”

His heart is beating too loud for him to hear the rest, so he misses the question his father asks, which ends up with him being shoved against a pillar, hand tightening around his air pipes.

“I asked if you were done being a fool.” Lucius sneers, and Draco, because the world around him is starting to darken, barely manages a nod before he’s dropped back to earth.

“Good. I will be my way, then. And Draco, don’t make me repeat this conversation.”

Watching the back retreat until he can’t see it anymore, he has only two thoughts. One, he really needs to get to Snape. Two, he really hates his father.

—————

Dobby finds him in a secluded corner of the castle, right before Snape’s office.

“Master Draco.” The elf bows, “Dobby did not realize he failed, he will burn his hands accordingly.”

Draco freezes, looks around to make sure no one else is there, although he seriously doubts Dobby would be so stupid to appear where anyone could see him, and then promptly shoves the elf into a nearby closet.

“ _What_ are you doing _here_?” He manages.

The elf speaks, but he can’t listen. Something is very wrong, he feels like something is clawing at his throat, he can barely focus on anything other than the panic clawing at him. However, he is nothing if not a Slytherin to his very core, so he cuts the elf off mid sentence before he freaks out.

“Dobby. Listen to me, these are orders. You are not to burn your hands, you are to redeem yourself and make sure Potter is safe. Do _not_ contact me at school again unless it is _dire_ , do you understand? This could get us both in a frightening amount of trouble.” 

His accomplice gives him a questioning face ruined with concern, but nods all the same. “Master-”

“ _Go,_ Dobby. _Now!”_

The elf disappears right as the door opens and Draco turns to meet Snape’s cool gaze with a rather panicked one.

They stare for a long time as Draco recovers his breathing, and then his godfather helps him up and leads them to the room he was aiming for the first time. Snape brews tea in silence, seeming to note that the boy needs at least five minutes to collect himself before he can speak. Once the tea is poured and served, both plain because they both enjoy the taste of the leaves themselves, he raises one bushy black eyebrow.

“What in the devil has happened to you?”

Isn’t that a loaded question. Normally, Draco would give as little information as possible, given that this is all very personal and only a bit of it involves their problem, but Draco is feeling far from normal at the moment, in fact he feels quite stung up at the moment, which is probably why he tells Snape _everything_. From the beginning of how the Dark Lord is poisoning his father, thankfully he’s still in control enough to skip over most of the abuse, to how Potter is surely going to die before the end of the year and leave them all without protection from said evil maniac, ending with how much he truly does miss his mother and his father’s seemingly innocent warning.

Snape stirs his tea thoughtfully before rising and pouring something into Draco’s drink.

“This,” he explains, “Is a potion to quell anxiety. I used it much in my early days of a spy, and I was a fool to think you wouldn’t need it. One sip of that will get you feeling back to normal, and I’ll teach you how to brew it in our study sessions beginning Monday. Do not protest, Draco, I have suddenly realized how much I have been lacking in guidance to you. You are too young to do this without my help, and I’m sure Albus warned you last year of how taxing it can be, I am sorry to have overlooked the possibility of it overwhelming you, and it will not happen again.”

He does roll his eyes at the sentiment, but just as his godfather said, one sip later and he can already feel his limbs becoming his again. Snape distracts him with a story of his mother in their younger years, and before he knows it the tea is all but gone.

“I will inform Dumbledore of your findings, I assume you wish your personal matters to be left out of my report?”

“Yes, I apologize for unloading my mess on you.” Draco quietly replies. “Clearly, I was having some trouble with my mind.”

Snape shakes his head, gracing Draco with a kinder version of a sneer. “Nonsense, I am your Head of House, and before that, family, one of the few people you _can_ speak freely in front of.” 

They arrange a time for their extra classes, Snape gives him the rest of the calming potion with clear instructions to take a tablespoon once a day, preferably in the morning, and even walks him to the door.

“Draco. I seldom extend this offer, but given the circumstances, and our relations outside of school, I find it imperative that should you have any troubles, personal or otherwise, you come immediately to see me. It is rare to find a trustworthy friend among spies, but I believe we each fit the role. Furthermore, an old friend used to tell me that ‘bottling up emotions’ is extremely unhealthy, so be careful not to. Not when you can always come to me.” 

Pretending like it doesn’t ease a sore spot growing on his soul, Draco nods, offering a ‘thank you’ whispered almost like a prayer. And then he is pushed out the door and ordered to sleep, which he has no problems following. 

—————

He wakes up at the ungodly hour of four Sunday morning and decides it’s the perfect time to sneak a visit to the infirmary. The sun hasn’t begun to rise, just dark enough to sneak there without waking any of the portraits, or worse, the ghosts. Floating things are down right cranky when something bothers them before they’re ready. Draco is sure to silence his steps, moving quickly so he’s not caught and in trouble before breakfast. One foot in front of the other gets him there quick enough.

Potter is sleeping when he enters, face distorted in pain and beginning to bruise from the fall, broken glasses sitting on the table beside his bed. Draco sighs and grabs his wand from beneath his robes, muttering ‘oculus reparo’ and watching the poor things pop back to a normal shape. Then he turns his wand to Potter’s face. A flick of the wrist and a ‘lenio’ later and Potter’s brow relaxes. Fool really should get better about taking his potions, which reminds Draco that he has his own to take now.

“You really are a handful, do you know that Potter? Hopefully I’ll get to take some of this frustration out on you eventually, not nearly as much as I’d like to, but enough to pay you back for the small things. Maybe one day you’ll listen to my warnings…”

He takes a closer look at the sleeping boy before him. Quiet and calm, Potter doesn’t look disgusting for once. Instead, he looks peaceful, like nothing bad can reach him where he is in his dreams. Draco finds himself envious, half wanting to join Potter in dream land, a faraway place where not even the Dark Lord could get him. He thinks back to the last face Potter made at him, disgust mixed with hated, and lets out another, deeper sigh. 

Turning before he can say something and make a complete disgrace of himself, Draco begins to leave, planning to go straight back to bed and not get out until Monday morning classes.

And then he sees the first year that asked for Potter’s autograph. The one he had made fun of, the one who had stood up to him, the one lying frozen with a look of pure horror etched on his features. Reaching out like he'd been holding something, limbs just as stuck as the rest of him.

His plans change then, feet taking the route to Dumbledore’s office instead.


	4. Snakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Scared?” Draco mouths, if Potter is, they can put this whole thing behind them and Draco can count this as a new way to release the tension in his head. Of course, the dumbass has to mutter back “You wish”, meaning they are going to have to do this.

“You’re staying _here_ during _Christmas_?!” 

Draco almost winces at his friend’s expressions, even Crabbe and Goyal are looking at him like he’s announced he is secretly a muggle. Pansy’s mouth hangs wide open, Blaise’s eyes narrow and disbelieving. Flint is acting like he’s gone crazy.

In all reality, maybe he has. He’d begged Dumbledore not to make a big deal out of it, promising to be good and not try out any of the ‘experiments’ he and Snape had talked about. Anything to avoid spending time with his father without his mother there to protect him. Call him a coward, but Draco would much rather _not_ deal with that at the moment. Besides, with the free time he could search for the Chamber in peace. And keep an eye on Potter.

“Yes. I am, and what about it?” Is his response, challenging and strong, nothing like what he actually feels. 

Pansy grabs hold of his arm. Most likely making sure it’s really him and not an impostor. “But what about your family?! Won’t your father be mad? What about your mother?”

Draco shrugs, “”Mother is going to be in Paris the whole break, and father is busy with Ministry business. Plus, this means I can continue my private studies with Snape.”

“Don’t you miss you manor though?” Blaise tries.

Another shrug, “The sheets are always too cold for my liking this time of year, and mother won’t be throwing her annual party.”

His friends openly gawk now, uncomfortably so, almost enough to make him wish he hadn’t told them. “It’s fine,” he reassures, “I’ll still be getting presents, and they both write frequently, I’ll have the pitch to myself, and time to get ahead of my classes. I thought it was a great idea, really.”

Pansy’s hand comes to rest on his own, warm and grounding. “Yes, but what about the monster? Surely it’s not safe.”

He shoots her a smile, “I’m a pureblood, what’s the worst it could do to me? Really, a peabrain like Potter is more of a threat.”

And that he fucking is. Potions comes around, his favorite class of the day where he can get some frustration out and be led into doing silly things by Crabbe and Goyle like tossing bits of things right at Scar Face’s head. They’re brewing Swelling Solution, he’s half-tempted to snag a sample to use for next Halloween. Can’t really see his friend’s heads getting bigger than they already were, though. Pansy would kill him if he messed with her nose, rather disappointing because it would be awfully funny. 

It must be karma or something equally ridiculous, like Potter and his bunch of friends, for example. One second he’s laughing with his friends, and the next something is landing in Goyle’s cauldron and their potion is exploding everywhere. His nose is suddenly the size of his hand and oh, he could never do something like this to Pansy. It feels _awful_ , he’s grateful when Snape snaps out that he has an antidote. People are laughing through their swelling, most of the class can’t even talk through their enlargements, and he supposes it would be funny if he wasn’t one of the affected. 

A single look at Potter’s grinning face and he decides he’s snag the sample after all. Pity if it found its way onto someone’s lightning scar. 

\----------

“A dueling club?” Draco gasps, “With _Lockheart_ of all people? That man left Potter boneless! Why on _earth_ would he be in charge of it?!” 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle looking at the two in front of him. Snape and Draco, both the picture of disgust and annoyance, mimicking one another with open sneers and their eyebrows furrowed in the exact same form. “Would it make you feel better if Severus were to be the other instructor?” 

That gets him functioning again, laughing loudly at the sudden darkness on his Professor’s face. The image of _Snape,_ formidable and intimidating, against the likes of that pompous prick. He _had_ to see it. 

“I will not spend more time with that fool, even if it is for the betterment of the students.” 

Draco whirls on him, “But Professor! Think of how humiliating it would be for him? He doesn’t stand a chance against you! You could knock him on his bum faster than he can sign his own autograph!” 

“Who’s side are you on?!” Snap glares, now met with two of the most persistent people he’d ever met. Even worse is the look of glee on Draco’s face. He hadn’t seen that in ages. 

“Obviously, the side of good, Dumbledore saved me from the Dark Lord. How _could_ I betray him over something this important?” 

The child doesn’t even wither at the look he gets for that comment. 

Dumbledore chuckles, moving forward to pat his arm and Snape instantly knows he’s lost. Draco can hardly contain his excitement. 

“Come on, Professor. It’ll be fun! Maybe then he’ll stop trying to steal and sign your potions. I hear dueling is a great way to let out pent up frustrations.” 

Dumbledore raises an eyebrow, choosing to ignore the balant tattle telling in favor of giving Snape one of his looks, the one that makes it very difficult to refuse. 

“I’ll agree under one condition.” Draco doesn’t like the sound of that at all, especially not when Snape points at him. “If I have to suffer, you will do it with me.” 

He’s left gaping, “But-“

“Come on, Draco. It’ll be fun, after all….I hear dueling is a great way to let out pent up frustrations…” A single sneer and Snape turns on his heel, stalking out of Dumbledore’s office and leaving the young boy flabbergasted. 

“Really, you should have seen that coming. Severus is not one miss a payback opportunity.”

All Draco can do is glare. He glares while Fawkes comes to see him, he glares the entire week leading up to the first session, and he most certainly glares at the idiots walking in. As if Lockheart isn’t enough, naturally Potter and crew would show. Thank Merlin Draco remembered both his potions this morning. 

“Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me? Excellent!” 

At least this irritation isn’t Potter produced. Somehow it’s worse.

In all his overly fake glory, Lockheart muses on, spouting some bullshit about how wonderful he is, introducing Snape in a blatant lie. Really, to think Snape would agree just because Lockheart asked and blinked twice! Only a fool would believe that, the man’s sneer told everyone what he thought of Lockheart. Then again, only a fool would smile in the wake of Snape’s hateful expression, Draco knew that from a rather nasty personal experience. 

The two professors turned, walked ten steps, and then faced each other to bow. Lockheart explains the basics, he ignores them because Malfoys learn at an early age how to duel. His first time hadn’t been pretty, but no one’s first time is. 

“-Neither one of us will be aiming to kill.”

Oh but Draco knew Snape was. Maybe not in front of the students, but personally, he wouldn’t mind things getting a little violent. They count to three, wands at the ready, and then Snape cries ‘Expelliarmus!’ and Lockheart is thrown a good yard back, landing flat on his ass. Draco cheers, unsurprised that most of the other Slytherins are doing the same.

“I believe he rather deserved that” Blaise whispers beside him.

Draco chuckles, “I’d like to see him cast a spell, just once.”

“That would require him knowing how to use his wand.” 

They shake with quiet laughter, shoving shoulders and then Blaise freezes.

“Draco, why is Snape looking at you like that?”

He tunes back into the conversation before him, Potter standing on the dueling mat, glaring at Snape, and the beady black eyes smirking at him. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” He begins in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Come over here. Let’s see what you make of the famous Potter.”

Blaise pats his shoulder, but he can’t refuse in public, or even put up much of a fight, so Draco rises, making his way to the middle. All eyes lock on the two boys, they walk their ten paces, bow, and then raise their wands.

“One!” Lockheart hollers, “Two! Three-”

Draco’s spell hits the boy straight in the chest. Potter stumbles back, and he has half the mind to hex him again, the first time sent shivers down his spine. _Consider this packback for your influence on my mental health, Potter._ No sooner than a second after the thought leaves his head and Potter is shouting “Rictusempra!” 

A blast of silver hits him before he can think about dogeing, and suddenly he can’t stop laughing.

“I said _disarm only!_ ” he hears Lockheart shout. Fills in the gaps of the instructions he’d missed, but he’s too busy laughing to care. It feels like someone is tickling him and it takes a few moments to figure out that he’d perfectly guessed the purpose of the spell. If Potter wanted to play dirty, he could get behind that.

“Tarantallegra!” he manages between catching his breath, another bout of laughter squeaks out of him at the way Potter’s legs have begun to move. Off to the left he can see Blaise cackling at the two of them.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” Lockheart calls out, making no effort to actually stop them. It’s Snape that mutters “Finate Incantatem” to cease the fight.

“Thank you, Professor, I do believe we should teach some blocking spells.”

Snape still has an unusual glint in his eyes, “Well we have the perfect pair right here, do we not? Or are these two students not good enough?”

Lockheart glares at the jab, Draco half hopes he’ll say ‘no, new pair’, but luck really has a nasty habit of never being on his side.

“I think it would work perfectly, if you would assist Mr. Malfoy?”

Snape nears despite Draco’s scowl. 

“I assume you know how to block.” The professor whispers, it takes all his self restraint not to step on the toes beside his own.

“Yes, I do. I don’t, however, understand _why_ I was picked for this particular activity.”

Snape smirks at him, “If I suffer, you suffer, Mr. Malfoy.”

He rolls his eyes but grins anyways, Potter is gazing at him with wide eyes, how could he not smile at that?

“Scared?” Draco mouths, if Potter is, they can put this whole thing behind them and Draco can count this as a new way to release the tension in his head. Of course, the dumbass has to mutter back “You wish”, meaning they _are_ going to have to do this.

Lockheart says something else, pulling back despite the panic in Potter’s eyes. “Alrighty then! One!”

A sheer look of confusion and panic.

“Two!” 

Wands raise, he almost laughs at the fumbling boy in front of him.

“Three-”

“Serpensortia!” Draco yells. The snake he’d summoned was one of his favorites, Polytimoes, a thin but long black snake who looked at him like they were sharing a secret before the screams started. Poly rose, ready to strike whatever danger came towards him, he almost felt the snake was glaring at his appointment.

“Don’t move, Potter.” Snape sighs, a lazy tone and even lazier movements. “I’ll get rid of it.”

“Allow me!” Lockheart yells.

Draco opens his mouth to protest, to tell them that Polly is a dear friend and he doesn’t wish to see her harmed, after all he would have to see her at the manor and preferred to _not_ be at the end of an angry snake. Before he could explain, Lockheart pointed his wand at Polly and the snake flew into the air with a loud bang. Draco gasped, whirling to raise up a storm at his pet’s treatment, only to see Polly hissing angrily and starting to some Hufflepuff, probably to strike. 

He’s opening his mouth to send her back home when something extremely peculiar happens.

It’s a stranger hissing sound, words are definitely underneath it, but he can’t make out what it is. Polly, however, does. Turning to look past Draco right at Harry fucking Potter, still speaking in the errie hissing voice. 

Polly slumps to the floor, calm once again, very unlike the furious glare the Hufflepuff, Draco recognizes him as Justin Fletchley. 

“What do you think you’re playing at?!” the boy shouts.

Draco would also like to know the answer to that question, along with the rest of class. They all stare at the confusion on Potter’s face. It’s like the idiot didn’t even know he had spoken parseltongue. When he thinks about it, Potter more than likely _doesn’t_ know, which really makes the whole thing a bit funny. He’s so busy watching he doesn’t see Snape vanish his friend, but he does see Weasley tugging Potter away. This year kept getting better and better.

\----------

“A Parselmouth! Who would’ve thought?”

His friends laugh, and for a moment Draco pretends it’s funny too. Snugly sitting between Blaise and Pansy, he feels almost safe. If he closed his eyes he could pretend they weren’t all leaving in a few days. The three of them let their legs dangle off the astronomy tower ledge, enjoying the view of snow covering every inch of the Hogwarts grounds. It’s beautiful, pure. Something that hasn’t been stained yet. Much like him, pure for the moment. 

He hadn’t been forced to do anything but protect yet. His hands were still clean, and yet he had the horrible feeling that one day even his perfectly manicured nails would be covered in blood. 

“Draco?” Pansy leans on him, in turn he leans on Blaise, who supports them both.

“What’s going on with you? You’ve looked more and more vile leading up to the break. You’re not trying to scare off the beast are you?”

“Seriously, even the seventh years are starting to get nervous around you.”

He shrugs, “I had no idea they were so taken with my second-year charm.”

“More like the glare you inherited from your father.” 

Blaise realizes the mistake he made the second Draco sends his infamous icy glare his way, rushing at an apology before he gets hexed like a first year had that morning. Pansy comes to his rescue, rubbing the boy’s arms. “If this is about Christmas break, Crabbe and Goyle are staying behind too, right? You won’t be alone, and you’ll have two perfectly willing people to bully.”

“It’s no fun when they’re willing” Draco pouts back.

They chuckle again, all too tired from classes to bother moving, besides, the warmth from either side of him is grounding. 

“Draco, I know you’re going to hex me for this….” Blaise begins, “But should you need someone, even just to vent and then Obliviate, I’m here.”

“Me as well,” Pansy adds after a moment of quiet, “You’ve been changing this year. Getting darker, and we’re worried. Slytherins don’t let each other suffer alone, it’s not good politics and you know it.”

He doesn’t speak for a while, and when he does it’s a pathetic excuse of hiding the truths that catch up to him in bed every night. 

“I’m merely growing up a little early, I assure you I’m fine and well, just maturing is all. Perhaps I’m meant to be a violent moody public figure for the rest of life. Scaring people into submission is just a perk, isn’t it?” 

His words are bitter even to his own ears, and his friends no doubt hear the pain behind it, moving to say something else that might break him for a bit. Fortunately, they hear footsteps running up the tower and Flint is bursting into the room.

“There’s been another attack, are you all safe?” 

The three are on their feet before he finishes his sentence, Pansy asking the question for all of them, “Who?”

“Justin Flinch-Fletchley.”

“Isn’t that the muggle-born Potter frightened half to death the other day?” Draco asks.

Flint gives him a nod, “Potter was the person who found him too, he’s already been taken to the headmaster, and we, that means all Slytherins, have been ordered by Snape to return to the dungeons. Christmas break might be the only thing saving our reputation now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore slytherin friendships


	5. Christmas Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s in for a long night all over again.

Two days before the term ends and Draco is ready to slit someone’s throat. Across the courtyard he can hear the Weasley twins pulling at Potter’s leg, so loudly anyone within a five mile radius could probably hear them.

“Tell us, Harry, who’s your next victim? Gonna switch it up and go for a pureblood?”

Draco would have crushed the apple in his hand if Blaise hadn’t gently grabbed him by the elbow. “I know they’re infuriating,” he whispers as he walks them back towards the dungeons, “What their saying is insulting to every Slytherin, the mere idea of Potter being capable of something interesting is just that. An idea. But if you don’t stop looking like you want to murder him, we’re all going to be in trouble.”

“You say that like you don’t want to beat him with a stick,” Draco whispers back, sending a glare at the Slytherin hall for it to open. 

“Oh I’d give up anything to hit him across the head one good time, just not when everyone is suspicious about everything. Besides, I only have two days left to beat you at Wizard’s Chess.”

Draco shoots him a half-smile, following him to one of the empty tables in the common room. “I can’t believe you’re still holding onto that stupid bet with Pansy.”

Blaise merely winks in response, “Anything for a bit of fun, Draco.”

And a ‘bit of fun’ is exactly what they spent their last day together doing. Pansy makes sure to force them into a longer breakfast, complete with lemon tarts and mint tea, promptly dragging them back to the dungeons for a games before it got too crowded. She left the two boys with the rest of their friends so she could spend time with her other friends, the rest of the Slytherin girls in their year. A wink and a few laughs later and they were making their way to the pitch, using snowballs as Bludgers and seeing who could stand the cold the longest; Draco won every round. By night Crabbe and Goyle were each to speak to their parents before staying, leaving Blaise and Draco alone in the dorm, piled under blankets and watching a book they had spelled to come to life. A story from a famous wizard writer- with real integrity unlike one of their professors- about a vampire and his noble deeds to save the world despite those who thought he was evil. 

Blasie takes a bite of his chocolate frog, pointing to the characters haloed by wand light. “This bloody vampire reminds me too much of you.”

“What? Afraid I’ll eat you?”

“You’re already a bloodsucking leech, Draco, you can’t do worse than you’ve already done. I’m fairly sure the first years will be coming back with angry notes from their parents.”

“Ah, yes,” Draco raises his voice an octave, “ _Dear Professor Snape, how dare you allow my darling, completely innocent child be harmed by a big bad twelve year old! I’ll have both of your heads for this!_ ”

Blaise matches his pitch, “ _Headmaster, I cannot believe the violence you condone at your school! Five hexes, on the same day?! By the same spoiled brat?!”_

“Well I have to make a name for myself somehow.”

The two share grins before Draco tosses his friend some pumpkin juice, “What better way to do that than sheer terror?”

“Really, it’s like you’re trying to mimic your father.”

A dark look passes before he can stop it, leaving them both unwilling to speak and nervous. Eventually, Blaise sits up slowly, “Listen, mate, I can’t pretend to know what’s going on, but if that’s what you’ve been so pent up about….you’re not your father. You have more respect than fear, shouldn’t that matter more in loyalty? Hell, I’m loyal to you, and it’s been a while since I’ve been properly terrified by you.”

“Are you suggesting there is something more important than loyalty? Or do I need to hex you before you leave?”

“Maybe, but we’re a little young to worry about that, aren’t we? There’s no need for you to be so worried so soon, relax for a few years, Draco, you deserve it.” 

They turn their attention back to the moving words still acting out the book they’re a part of. Much later, once Crabbe and Goyle have returned, and they’ve passed into the fourth volume, Draco mumbled a ‘thank you’. His friends are too asleep to hear him.

\----------

“I agree with Mr. Zabini. You are far too young to have these worries, but given our situation, it’s unavoidable.”

Draco kept his mouth shut, sipping his tea like it was the only thing that mattered. 

He’d watched his friends and the hundreds of other students file out of the school from the Astronomy tower. Seeing them laugh and carry on, Blaise and Pansy no doubt sharing one too many inside jokes, hurt. Like a knife twisting inside his stomach. How come he didn’t get to be as carefree? Would he get to be happy once his father recovered from whatever hopes he had for the Dark Lord? He ignored the emptiness building up in him, spending time with Crabbe and Goyle who drilled him about the chamber and somehow ended up learning about how awful their classes were going, which led to a few days of tutoring and flying when the three of them got tired.

Christmas day dawned and the loneliness got under his skin. This was, after all, the first time he hadn’t woken up to house elves singing Christmas carols and the smell of breakfast that would be waiting after presents. No hugs and kisses from mother, no loving looks from his parents, not even a cup of tea to wake to. Draco sat in his bed for a long time thinking about the past. Now, instead of hugging him and bestowing a gentleness no one would ever guess Lucius possessed, he was more likely to get a threat and a painful grip on his shoulder. Now, instead of his mother swooping down and squeezing the life out of him before ushering him to his place beside the fire, she would be more likely to owl him from Paris, if he should be so lucky. The surge of emotions hits him like a Bludger to the head and leaves him dizzy.

As soon as the sadness let him breathe, he lugged himself out of bed to find Snape. Misery loves company, and it’s much less dangerous that way. Pleasant at first, simple ‘happy Christmas’ exchange between two people, a warmer atmosphere by Snape’s fire. They exchanged presents, a few of his godfather’s favorite chocolates and a pocket watch for him. After an hour of prodding and poking at the boy, he had finally caved and told Snape his latest bouts of emotions haunting him even in his dreams. The potions master didn’t take it lightly, telling him of all the ways to curb such sadness and even making him practice a few. At the end of their long talk, having missed Christmas tea, Snape pats his shoulder, almost affectionately. It shoots him back to three years ago, although it feels like a lifetime ago. The memory of his father, giving him the same tight smile, the same pat, on the same shoulder. 

“Do try to enjoy your break, Draco. If the items from my storages indicate anything, you will. At least try to be careful, polyjuice potion is particularly hard to manage. If you need help, please come to see me. You deserve a little fun, and if you have to be someone else for it, I’ll keep it secret.”

Draco raises an eyebrow, “I thank you for your kindness, it really does mean more to me than I care to admit, but professor, I haven’t taken anything from your storages since we made the anxiety potion.”

Snape’s eyes narrow, “In that case, I recommend you go straight back to your domortary. Until the culprit is caught, this is a very big issue. Keep your eyes open, Draco, if anyone acts funny, remember they may not be who you think they are. Should you figure it out before me, I expect to be notified.”

Draco nods, like the good boy he is, and makes his way back to the common room, fully intending to read a book and go to bed, and then a voice he _knows_ doesn’t belong in these parts of the castle hits him.

“ _I_ am a Perfect. Nothing is about to attack _me_.” 

Turning the corner, he sees Crabbe and Goyle glaring at Percy Weasley, who makes the nastiest face at his friends. His friends who had kept their heads down and tried so hard for their grades, only to fail, getting told off for no reason. They’ve been through enough this year, he decides as he strides towards the group.

“There you are,” he makes an effort to keep his tone even, “Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I’ve been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny.” 

It’s innocent enough that it leaves no room for question,some fun with his friends would actually probably be good for him, but the look Perfect Weasley gives him rubs him the wrong way, and with his morning, he can’t help but sneer. “And what are _you_ doing down here?”

The fool shouts something, not that Draco bothers to listen. Instead he gives his best glare before motioning his friends to follow.

“That Peter Weasley…”he mutters. What an odd thing to see, someone not Slytherin in the dungeons, very suspicious…

“Percy.” Crabbe corrected. Draco cast him a glance, Crabbe never corrected him, usually it was the other way around.

“Whatever, he’s been sneaky around here too much for my liking. I bet he’s trying to take down the heir of Slytherin single-handedly.”

Neither of them laugh at his joke, another very weird thing. He brushes it off as them being a little too full to think, trying to ignore Snape’s warning in the back of his mind. They reach the common room gate, and just because he’s paranoid, he turns to Goyle. 

“What’s the new password again?”

Goyle looks panicked for a moment, “Um-”

“Oh nevermind-I remembered. Pureblood.” This is not good. His friends are being _very_ weird. Just last night he had asked the same question and Goyle had simply said it and they moved on. He was good at memorizing, which is why he was struggling so hard in Mcgonagall’s class. One can’t memorize pure skill. He marches in anyways, at least if he’s around other Slytherins he has protection. 

“Wait here.” he barks, looking around for anything that would normally make them laugh. He mumbles something else, not really paying attention as he spots the headlines from the _Daily Prophet._ No wonder Perfect Weasley was in a mood. Having a parent under inquiry at the Ministry couldn’t be fun, he would pity the boy if he hadn’t been so rude to his house. He grabs it and thrusts it into Crabbe’s hands. 

“That’ll give you a laugh.” He snorts, watching very closely for any reaction. If he could guess who was actually sitting in front of him it would help Snape later. Obviously it wasn’t his friends, they would be rolling with laughter or asking to sneak sweets into their nightly study session. Instead Crabbe’s face morphs into a loosely hidden anger, Goyle’s into sadness and guilt. 

“Well? Isn’t it funny?” He asks as the paper is handed back to him.

All he gets in return is a pathetic excuse of Goyle’s laugh. Trying one more time, because Draco _really_ needs his friends right now, not some impostor, he continues. Saying something about Arthur Weasley being stupid- and he’s not wrong. With how the entire family acts, no one would ever know their purebloods, his father had drilled it in his brain that the entire lot of them were the biggest disgrace high society had ever known. Judging by the look the frauds give him, they don’t agree.

“What’s up with you, Crabbe?” He snaps, hoping beyond all hope he can make whoever it is angry enough to leave so he can tell on them to Snape and then go the fuck to bed.

“Stomachache.”

The real Crabbe would’ve been complaining about it from the second they saw each other in the hall. He gives some comments about how they should go to the hospital wing, that’s a place they could easily be caught. When they don’t move he continues his bashing of Father Weasley. That somehow turns into a rant about Dumbledore, because the git had taken Fawkes with him on a trip for the day which meant Draco had no one to pet and hug, which in turn brought him to Colin Creevy, who was the youngest of all the victims and should be up with the rest of them, taking an annoying amount of pictures. He’d be thrilled to get a few shots of Potter’s Christmas. That thought leads down an entire different tangent. 

“Potter” he mimics, “Can I have your picture Potter? Can I have your autograph Potter? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?”

The whole thing had made him sick, but even worse is the fact that his ‘friends’ still aren’t laughing. He lightly calls them out on it, whoever they are, they obviously had never been around Crabbe and Goyal for longer than ten minutes.

“What’s the _matter_ with you two?” _And why the hell are you in my friend’s forms you creeps?_

They laugh then, looking entirely too uncomfortable. Must not be the brightest, or the sneakiest then. Although Goyle _is_ started to look a little green. _That’s interesting…_ Maybe if he played that angle he could get some more clues.

“Saint Potter, the Mudblood’s friends” he says slowly, carefully, gauging the reactions, “He’s another one with no proper wizard training, or he wouldn’t go around with that jumped up Granger…..and people think _he’s_ the Slytherin heir…”

That seems to strike a nerve, their eyes light up at the mention. Probably there for information, which is perfect seeing that he has none on the subject. Can’t leave them empty handed, plus this is a chance to clear out his house’s name. “I _wish_ I knew who it was, I could help them…”

Help them straight into Azkaban, that is.

“You must have some idea who’s behind it all…” Goyle practically pleads, another mistake on the fraud’s part, they had this conversation last night too. 

“You know I haven’t, how many times do I have to tell you before you believe me? Father won’t tell me _anything_ about his ideas, but the whole school knows it was opened fifty years ago. Didn't you read about it in _Hogwarts; a History?_ It’s all anyone could talk about before break...apparently,” his eyes search their faces for the next part, “the last time it was opened, a Mudblood _died._ ”

They both gulp. Good. Maybe now they won’t go poking their heads where they don’t belong. Just for good measure, and partly because he was still trying to piss them off, he adds “I hope it’s Granger.”

Crabbe jumps up at that, whoever Goyle is rushes to grab him. Good call on his part.

“Probably his stomach,” Goyle says, but the voice is turning oddly familiar. 

Draco watches as they flee, noting that the two heads turn from brunette to black and red. Only two people in the entire school could be dumb enough to get caught while using a polyjuice potion. And only one witch was smart enough to make it and almost get away with it. He gives them a few minutes to get in the clear, and then heads back out to fill in Snape.

He’s in for a long night all over again.

\----------

In the end, apparently Granger had royally messed up her personal potion, and after sneaking into the hospital wing to catch a glimpse at what the hell that meant, he almost felt pity for her. Snape did give the trio a copious amount of homework out of pure anger though. He did _not_ smile like a teenager with a crush when he saw Blaise and Pansy in the common room, but he did hug them both and take a few years off their lives when he told them how _his_ break had been.

“Really? Potter and Weasley? Polyjuice? To get in Slytherin? Who do they think they’re trying to be?” 

“Trust me, I was equally as shocked.”

Pansy’s face distorts into something rather ugly, “I’m surprised you didn’t hex them into next week.”

“Please, everyone knows better than to actually hurt Potter. Dumbledore would have their heads.”

They’re walking back from the Astronomy tower where they had spent a few hours sharing stories about break. Pansy got new robes, all the chocolate she could dream of, some makeup her mother swore was the best wizarding kind had to offer, and a trip to the Bahamas. Blaise was similar, although he got a new broom and a collection of wizard fiction he fully intended on watching late at night. Draco had gotten his owl with presents the day after Christmas, filled with trinkets from Paris, a new ebony comb, and a diamond necklace his mother had the other part to. His father had sent him new robes and a silk scarf. He may have considered throwing them away before putting them both on and facing his friends. 

Lunch called them down to the Great Hall as they all forgot about breakfast, but the sound of running water made them stop. 

“What in the hell?” Draco moaned, taking the next step forward and splashing in water leaking from a bathroom.

“Who in their right mind would flood _this_ bathroom? Moaning Myrtle is going to kill them.”

Blaise matches Draco’s expression. “Moaning who?”

“Seriously? You two don’t know about her?” At their blank faces she lets out a sigh, “You would be hopeless without me, do you know that? Everyone in the whole school knows to stay out of there. Moaning Myrtle owns the place, and is really rather nasty. As soon as you go in she’s crying and screaming until you leave. Legend says she died fifty years ago in one of the stalls, she had been crying because she was bullied, and stays in there to cry for the rest of eternity. It’s sad if you think about it.”

Blaise rolls his eyes, “Come now, Pansy, you shouldn’t feel bad for a ghost. I bet she flooded the place for attention since no one visits her.”

“Either way…” Draco grimaces at his soaked feet, “Someone should let the teachers know, I’ll go tell Snape and meet you in the Great Hall.”

“Are you sure?” Pansy says at the exact time Blaise offers, “We can go with you.”

He waves them both away, “Please, you’re hungry from your travels. I won’t be long, do save me something from Crabbe and Goyle if you can.”

They both nod as he walks away and hides behind a corner until they’re gone. Then he goes back towards the way they came, right to Dumbledore’s office. The old man is waiting for him, like he knew it would happen, a baby Fawkes peers at him as soon as he enters and derails his thoughts.

“Fawkes! I missed your burning?” He makes a beeline for the creature to pick him up and gently pet him. 

“Hello, Draco, it’s good to see you too.”

The boy turns around with a big smile, Fawkes burrowing into his warmth. “Sorry, Headmaster, I did actually come here to see you, I just can’t believe I haven’t come and seen Fawkes since his rebirth.” 

“He’ll be full grown again in a week, the next one won’t happen for a longer time.”

“Is it painful for them?”

Dumbledore rises to join them away from his desk, “No, fire rarely harms Phoenixes. He enjoyed the treats you got him for Christmas, I never thought to let him try berries, he usually prefers magical plants.”

Draco grins, “I dunno why it occurred to me, but white strawberries are very good, I wanted to share.”

“A kind gesture that will be rewarded, no doubt. Have you come to discuss them with me?”

Realizing that he’d gotten very off topic, Draco shakes his head. “Actually, sir, I came to ask about Moaning Myrtle. Her bathroom has flooded, and I had no idea about her until Pansy told me, but I’d like to know the full story.”

Dumbledore grows quiet, somber enough that Fawkes raises his head and chips out a small song of comfort that brings the spark back into tired old eyes. “I’ll brew us some tea, then. I suppose I should send for Severus, it’s time I told you both the story. There is no hiding from the past when we need it to fix the future.”

“You’ve been hiding something from us?”

A sad attempt at a smile leaves him struck with dread. Anything that makes Dumbledore sad is either a very big deal, or a very big threat. 

“Not hiding, Draco. There are some things even I find difficult to relive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the comments! ily! and also i know I haven't finished this yet but I already have plans for the the next one lmao. Wish me luck!


	6. Valentines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luckily his brain had stepped up and threw the letter under his pillow before he sent the rest of them off. 

It’s quiet in the headmaster’s office, despite three people and one Phoenix being there. The paintings say nothing, the sorting hat is out of quick remarks, even the fire has calmed it’s cackling. Their tea is growing cold, but Draco can’t find the will to reach for it. Snape’s cup sits untouched besides his, and after a long moment, Dumbledore takes a deep breath and the quiet is shattered.

“You’re both aware that before Voldemort was as he is now, he was a student. Correct?”

Snape nods, Draco shakes his head ‘no’, “Did he go here?”

“Yes.” Dumbledore smiles. “Yes he did. But at that time he went by a different name; Tom Riddle. The boy had many troubles, but most of all, a deep hatred for others born non of pure blood, don’t give me that look Draco. I understand your disbelief, but I assure you, Voldemort was and remains a half-blood. Nasty story behind that, the boy became so blind with rage and anger….it was sad to watch. Fifty years ago, he was a top student, powerful and talented, and kind. Or so I thought. He was sorted into Slytherin, and somehow found out about his mother…”

“His mother?” Snape asks.

Dumbledore nods, “You see, the boy’s mother…was a descendant of Salazar himself.”

Draco listens with wide eyes, picking up his tea just to have something to do with his hands. A descendant of Slytherin, and murked with the blood of a muggle. No wonder he was so vile, but also powerful…

“I do not know how he found the chamber, or even where it is, but I do know that as soon as it was open the attacks started. They got worse and worse until a young girl was killed. Only then, when he feared punishment and realized how closely eyes began to watch him, did he close it. She was muggle-born, a Ravenclaw, one of the shy ones. Without her glasses, she couldn’t see anything, and everyone knew it. Some people used it to taunt her, she was always one to be bullied, not a single brave bone in her body. I never did get the full story, but one day, she ran into that bathroom crying, and never came out. Riddle got what he wanted in the end. Fear, and his first kill.”

The quiet is back once he finishes, and something begins to make sense to Draco. 

“Sir, if Riddle was the last person to open it, would it be right to assume he’s done it again? Or,” he takes a deep breath, knowing exactly how what he says next will sound, “Or someone with a close connection to him?”

Snape snaps his head up at that, “If you’re thinking that Harry Potter has the spine to-”

“He may not have the spine, Severus, but he has the connection.”

Cold rushes through Draco, he’s speaking before he can think, fire rushing through his veins, “Bloody hell has he been in connection with the Dark Lord this entire time? Owling him when he wants to be in tune with whatever scheme his cronies are pulling? By Merlin-”

“Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore’s voice cuts through him like a knife. Which is fair considering he not only cussed in front of a teacher, but also insulted the precious Potter. “You’ll do well to watch your mouth, and I assure you Harry has no idea about his connection to Voldemort. It was completely accidental and I’m not even sure how strong it is. When the curse struck the baby, and the scar was formed, as was the bond. You cannot have one without there other, and I know not to what extent it exists. All we know now is that somehow, someone in the castle is being manipulated by Voldemort himself, and that may or may not be Harry-”

A sudden thought strikes him. During the summer, when his father had boasted about having one of Tom Riddle’s diaries. He hadn’t even known how it was related to the Dark Lord, he thought it was something stolen and later filled with dark magic...he hadn’t known…

“What was that, Draco?”

He looks up to see two pairs of eyes looking at him, and he takes a deep breath. “The diary, sir...this summer my father, I mean, he found this diary and went on about it for weeks. He said it belonged to some Tom Riddle person, but I didn’t know who it was, I thought it was just dark magic and-”

“So it’s a dairy….” Dumbledore muses, and when he doesn’t get angry Draco can finally breathe normally. 

“Do you remember what it looks like?” Snape asks, getting a nod in response.

“It’s blank inside, and when you write in it the letters disappear. Someone else answers, father used to talk to it all night long. Outside it just looks like a normal old, used notebook. With black leather binding.”

Snape sighs, “So we’re looking for any old school book but this one just so happens to allow students to communicate with the single most evil wizard to walk the Earth.”

Draco nods once more, getting a chuckle from Dumbledore as Snape rolls his eyes.

“Wonderful.

\----------

Attacks ceased for a few days and things started to look up. Blaise and Pansy came to support him at practices, Flint made sure to tell him he was doing better, much better. Crabbe and Goyle managed to pull their grades up with his help, really all was beginning to look like it would be okay.

And then Lockheart came up with an idea for school morale. 

“It’ll be fun!” He announced in class one day, smiling from ear to ear, “A Valentine’s treat! From you-” he pointed to Granger, who raises an eyebrow, “to you!” Potter, the other selected merely snorts.

Blaise leans over with a laugh, “Oh darling Draco, I can’t wait to see how many _you_ get. Can you send me one? For, ya know, _morale_?”

“Sure, you can have my leftovers, dear.” 

The boy feigns hurt, leaving them both in fits of snickers, Crabbe and Goyle just mutter something about not getting it. Understanding reaches them a few days later when they all walk into the Great Hall and are bombarded with flowers of every kind in pink, hearts hanging from the sky, and one imbecile in the middle, smiling like it actually looks good.

“Happy Valentine’s Day! And may I thank the forty-six people so far who have sent me cards!” 

Draco rolls his eyes, but Blaise beats him to the punch, “How many have you gotten so far?”

“If you must know, twelve.” 

Pansy snickers, “Just wait until you see what we sent you.”

His laughing friends are met with a very loud, very dramatic, groan. 

Despite his annoyance at it all, Draco still finds the whole thing flattering. Who is he to deny attention? He’d much rather drown in it, thank you very much. By lunch he’d received somewhere in the forties, including one from Pansy that sung and told him he was her ‘favorite twit with a snarky twist’ and Blaise’s that thankfully didn’t sing, but did remind him that his ‘dirty laundry’ makes the boy’s fragile heart ‘swoon’ when he steps on it in the morning. Contrary to his earlier words, he had sent out a few himself. 

One to Pansy to tell her that she was a flower among weeds. One to Blaise, it definitely sang, and may or may not have consisted of Draco calling him every embarrassing nickname he could think of. One to Flint that said ‘thank you for your kindness and patience’ with no signature, he’s not a fool after all. One to both Crabbe and Goyle that thanked them for their friendship. One for Snape and Dumbledore, both thanks for everything they’ve done for him. Simple, polite, and straight to the point with most of them. Good politics is all it is, the more people like you, the more they’re likely to do what you want, or stay loyal when you need them to. 

Which left him with the weird feeling while he was writing to his friends and mentors. For some unknown reason, he had started writing one to Harry bloody Potter. He didn’t send it, of course, that would be preposterous. But by Merlin did he write one, a full page going on about how he wished the boy would be safer, that he’s too important to die so young, that people- Draco- needed him to survive. That people were watching over him, caring for him, and wishing every damn day for his safety. 

Luckily his brain had stepped up and threw the letter under his pillow before he sent the rest of them off. 

He’s replaying that scene in his mind over and over, just to make sure he didn’t send the letter, to make sure his isn’t the one Potter is actively avoiding in the middle of the hallway. 

“Let me go!” Potter demands, trying to get free from the goblins that Draco had seen throughout the day. He moved in an odd way and suddenly his bag was ripping, contents spilling all over, including a familiar looking book. 

Before anyone could reach to help the boy collect his belongings, the goblin began to sing and it was all Draco could do not to burst into laughter before he got the book. A poem about his eyes, his hair, how brave he was against the Dark Lord, all so _fucking_ funny he almost forgot to be mean. Almost. Because the book was by his feet, and with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him, nothing would stop him from picking it up, except, of course, Potter, still red in the face and huffing.

“Give that back.” 

So soft he almost hadn’t heard it, and really, with how _nice_ Potter was being, he would. As soon as he checked to make sure it wasn’t the diary.

“Wonder what Potter’s written in this?” Draco says, hoping that something was actually there, preferably notes so he wouldn’t have to invade privacy, or turn him in to Dumbledore. 

“Hand it over, Malfoy.”

 _Bloody_ Perfect Weasley. 

“When I’ve had a look”, Draco replies, keeping the _this is more important than you’re bloody fucking ego_ bit unspoken.

Both Gryffindors were speaking but he was too busy peeking into a blank book when suddenly it flew out of his hand and into Weasley’s.

“Harry!” Perfect Weasley yelled, “ _No_ magic in the hallways! I have to report this you know!”

Dread and anger filled his every atom. Harry Potter had Tom Riddle’s diary. The fucking Boy-Who-Should’ve-Died had the book that started all of this shit. He was three seconds away from grabbing his wand when the Female Weasley ducked her head. Blushing, looking at the book with wide eyes, horrified and embarrassed. 

“I don’t think Potter liked your Valentine much!” he snorts, turning on his heel and leaving Crabbe and Goyle to class. Irritated and somewhat betrayed, he marches straight to Dumbledore’s office to tell him his oh so perfect golden boy had the one thing that would ruin them all. It was just his luck that the old man wasn’t in his office. 

He tries again, later that night, when Blaise’s ‘what do you mean you got ninety-seven cards?!’ starts to get annoying. 

“Headmaster-” he begins as soon as he steps foot in the office, a mistake really, given that Dumbledore is holding a paper with a grave look that stops him in his tracks.

“Has someone else been attacked?” he asks, forgetting Potter in the wake of such a look. 

The headmaster lets out a long sigh, “No. But I’m afraid this is equally disturbing….we are being visited by Cornelius Fudge soon.”

“The minister?! Why?”

“Because he believes Hagrid has opened the chambers...just like last time they are forcing the blame on an innocent soul.”

Draco scoffs, “Hagrid? That giant oaf has some creatures, sure, but he isn’t a murderer! The man can hardly keep himself from crying when pudding spills!” He keeps comments of the man’s intelligence to himself, no need to anger an already sad man. 

On the plus side, his little outburst has left the man amused in his grief. “I agree, Hagrid is exceptionally gentle, however your father does not share our views.”

“My father?” What could Lucius Malfoy possibly-“Oh.” 

A way to lay blame elsewhere. A way into the school. A way to ensure the Dark Lord’s favor is won.

“He’ll be coming with Fudge, I was eventually going to summon and warn you.”

Lucius Malfoy, here, at the school. There truly was no way for Draco to escape him. Nothing he could do or say, he couldn’t even step one toe out of line. That would be hell.

“Will he be staying long?” Draco asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“I certainly doubt so, more than likely he’ll want to be present for Hagrid’s dismay. Should anything happen, and I am busy with the minister, Severus will act for us both. You will be safe from him in this school.” 

Draco didn’t have the heart to tell him about his last school visit with dear old dad. He takes a deep breath, “Speaking of being safe. I’ve found out who has the diary.”

“A perfect time, no less,” Dumbledore’s bitterness almost draws a laugh out of him, “Do tell me who it is.” 

“You’re not going to like it, but I’m afraid Harry Potter has it tucked away in his school bag.”

Dumbledore frowns, “Of course he does…”


	7. The man, the Snake, and the Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So we’re dealing with a giant deadly snake, your father, the grounds-keeper who would know more about this than either of us in Azkaban, Dumbledore missing, and Potter’s inability to stay out of trouble.”

Ignoring that fact that Potter’s room was ransacked and the diary stolen, Draco is having a good week. He and Blaise matched class schedules for the next year, same with Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy managed to score an art class, something they’d talked about all week long, and with Flint it had been non stop Quidditch. New tactics, were they going to face Gryffindor again? How to make his broom go faster. The minister hasn’t shown yet, but he can feel it coming. It’s in the back of his mind every step he takes, one of the many reasons he’s trekking it to the library instead of the match. That and a last-minute charms assignment. 

McGonagall was sadistic when she was being kind, he never wanted to see her angry. 

Draco has every intention of finishing the assignment and studying for the quickly approaching finals, a good and normal thing for a student to want. Naturally, it doesn’t happen.

She’s frozen in the hallways, a hand up and holding a mirror, one single sheet of paper limp in her other hand.

“Granger?” He calls, feet carrying him quicker. No one is in the castle because of the game, but he checks anyways, looking around before shaking her shoulders. “Granger?!” Petrified just like the others. _Oh fuck Potter is gonna freak._

Calm down, he needs to calm down, what would Snape do? Snape would be calm, Snape wouldn’t lose his composure over someone who wasn’t even his friend. Snape would look at the paper in Granger’s hand. Draco eases it out, careful not to let it rip, and then reads it over, filled with information about Basilisks, small bits of information clicking together in fragments of seconds. Potter was a parselmouth, he probably heard the snake where it went, which is why he’d been at so many of the discoveries. It explained how the first Slytherin had controlled the beast. Why the victims hadn’t been killed, none of them looked directly in the eyes. Granger had even written down how it got around, through pipes. 

“You really are bloody brilliant,” he whispers, turning to find Dumbledore, only to turn back around and securely tuck the paper back in. He didn’t know how he knew, but Potter would be needing that. If nothing else, to know that she figured it out. 

One foot leads to another, he’s practically sprinting down the hall, but stops dead in his tracks at the sight of two old men, a frightening figure walking between them.

Lucius Malfoy had entered the castle. 

Draco skids to a halt and backs away slowly, taking a route to Madam Pomfrey instead. It wouldn't be until much later when his father summoned him that he realized why the man had looked so happy.

“Headmaster Dumbledore is….”

“No longer your headmaster for starters, you blithering idiot. Do not speak of him in such high esteem, I don’t care what you’ve been taught; that man is worse than you.”

Draco flinches and it doesn’t go unnoticed. As if deciding to give his son something to actually be afraid of, Lucius raises his hand and backhands him so hard he falls. 

“Pathetic. You’re becoming more and more like a disgrace everyday. The Dark Lord will be among us shortly, you better hope he comes soon, or you and I will have some training to do.”

“Training?” Draco refrains from holding his throbbing cheek, no need to spur the man.

Lucius gives him a bone-chilling smile before turning around and walking away, “Best get back to your chambers, son. Wouldn’t want people thinking _you_ were the cause of all this.”

Highly unlikely given that the whole school was practically convinced Potter was behind it all, and oh fuck he’d forgotten about Potter. And Granger….and now Dumbledore was gone…. _bloody hell_. Draco curses himself before making his way straight to Snape’s office, spitting out the password and barging in.

“Dumbledore is-”

“Gone. Yes, I’m aware. It seems you and I are the only ones left to care for Potter. Tell me you’re barging here with some fragment of good news, if not I may be reduced to kicking you out and taking house points.”

As if he would take points from Slytherin, unlikely if not unthinkable. 

“I had come to tell you that Granger has been attacked, but seeing the hour, I assume you already know. What might surprise you is that the girl figured it out. Most of it, anyways.”

Snape slumps in his chair, waving his hand over his cup and leaving the tea steaming once more. “Explain. Now.”

Draco takes a seat, “The monster, sir. It’s a basilisk, Potter can hear it because it’s a snake. Yes, I know they’re rather large- Granger suspects the pipes are how it’s been getting around, and you have to admit it makes an unsettling amount of sense. How else would it be controlled by Salazar? And the students have been petrified, but not killed, isn't that rare for any other creature? Think about how none of them looked the beast in the eyes. Through reflections on water, a camera, glasses, Granger's mirror....that's why no one has died yet.”

His professor looks like he’s aged substantially in the past few seconds, “So we’re dealing with a giant deadly snake, your father, the grounds-keeper who would know more about this than either of us in Azkaban, Dumbledore missing, and Potter’s inability to stay out of trouble.”

“You forgot the petrified victims.” 

Snape sneers at him, “ _Must_ you remind me?”

\----------

The following days Draco finds every excuse he can to get into Snape’s office, the two of them pouring over books, learning ways to defeat such beasts, learning the quickest way to heal, how to protect yourself from something you couldn’t look in the eye. He disappears so much it’s no surprise Blaise and Pansy corner him the second he starts towards the common room door.

“Where the _hell_ do you think you’re going?” 

Freezing like a child being caught stealing from the kitchens, Draco slowly turns.

“Um...out?”

“Out?!” Blaise asks, whisper-shouting at him so no one else wakes up, “When there are _attacks_ happening and Dumbledore is gone?”

Draco raises an eyebrow, “Yes? I’m only going to see Snape.”

That seems to be the final straw for Pansy who looks as though she might tear her hair out. “ _Only going to see-_ Draco! You could get hurt!”

“It’s only five minutes away from here!”

“And Granger was only five steps away from the library when she was attacked, wasn’t she?! How much time do you think that is, Blaise? I’m thinking maybe all of thirty seconds.”

Draco fights the urge to roll his eyes at his friends, really, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. If anything, he was trying to fix what his father had done. Forgive him for attempting to be a good person. Blaise sees the look on his face and softens, moving cautiously forward.

“Draco, it’s not that we don’t trust you...it’s just not safe. Everyone is terrified of who will be next, and we don’t want it to be you in the hospital wing.” 

Pansy is quick on the uptake, moving even closer to look at him with such worry it sucks the air out of his lungs. He’d forgotten that people cared for him. “I know you’re worried about your godfather, and I know you want the distraction of learning, but it’s simply not safe...if you or any of my other friends…”her voice breaks off and Draco finds himself reaching out instinctively. Slytherins never showed weakness, and yet Pansy was shaking in his arms. 

Blaise reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, warm against his back and very comforting. “If you can’t sleep, stay here with us. We can crack open the new series my dad got me, get out the snacks, make a night of it. Just please,” his sad smile rivals Dumbledore’s knowing looks, “Stay, here, with us. Where it’s safe.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to resist even if he wanted to. Not when they both release sighs as they drag him to one of the couches and he doesn’t resist. Pansy stays with him while Blaise grabs his books, the boy returns the favor when she fetches her snacks, like he would disappear if they let him out of their sight. Before he can complain, the three of them are settled and words are coming to life out of the book on the coffee table. Comfortable, calming, safe. Between them, Draco could almost forget what he had done, what he was doing, what he would have to do. They were just three friends, enjoying a book by the fire, happy and young and with nothing bad that could reach them in their little bubble. 

Pansy falls asleep first, midway through the first movie. She curls into the armrest of the forest green velvet, Draco drapes a blanket over her. Blaise is next, head lolling back and cinnamon crisps forgotten on his lap, Draco removes the bag so it doesn’t make a mess. Once he’s sure neither of them will hear it he speaks.

“Thank you,” voice abnormally loud in the quiet room, “I’m sorry for worrying you, I promise I don’t mean to.”

“We know, idiot.” Blaise whispers back, head drifting back to him.

Draco flushes, “I thought you were-”

“Asleep? Almost. But then you opened that bloody mouth of yours. Do you normally talk to people when they’re sleeping?”

“Only if they’re as much of a prat as you are.”

That ears him a sleepy smile, “Please, you’d be lost without us and you know it.”

“Like you’re much better,” he snorts.

“Nah. We’re not. Been bloody worried about everything this year, your safety means something to people. You know that, right?”

The boy’s words are so slurred with sleep Draco hardly understands them. Instead of replying, he brushes some of Blaise’s hair out of his face, muttering a ‘go back to sleep’ to eyes that have already closed.

His safety meant something to people, huh? What a weird thought. His father seemed to delight in causing him pain recently, that certainly wasn’t safe. He’d agreed to spy for and protect someone who hated his guts and didn’t even know what he was doing. That was more stupid than safe though, it still counted in his book after last year’s adventure in the Forbidden Forest. He knew about and helped hunt for a giant monster that would no doubt kill someone before the end of the year, dangerous and there was no disputing that. To top it all off, if he managed to survive this year, he’d go home to ‘training’ that was probably code for being beaten and cursed. Safety wasn’t in his world anymore, and yet for the two people beside him, he wanted it to be. 

If he couldn’t be safe, he could at least promise to return to them. And that he did, looking at the two sleeping figures on either side of him, he swore to Death himself that he would always return to them, no matter what. They were loyal and he returned the favor ten-fold, once a snake was loyal, there was no going back. No second guesses, no changing minds. Yet, somehow, Draco didn’t feel a smudge of anxiety as he made the oath. Only a deep sense of belonging he had never felt before.

And then the common room door creaked open. 

His hand was on his wand before he could blink, rising just slowly enough so he wouldn’t be seen, only to point his wand right towards Snape’s eyeball. Stressed, and looking like ten years had been taken off his life, the Professor sighed, and then reached out and patted his shoulder. 

“Are you alright? You didn’t come tonight, there’s been another attack, and it’s bad. I got worried.”

Draco lets out a sigh as well, lowering his wand and moving toward the man. “Blaise and Pansy got me on the way out the door and wouldn’t let me leave. How bad is it?”

Snape hangs his head, answering in a whisper devoid of hope. “It’s taken a student. Ginny Weasley, to be exact….if we’re too late to save her…”

“Then she’ll die, the Dark Lord will rise, and Potter will be devastated and in more danger than either of us can handle…”

They take a moment to realize the gravity of the situation. Each staring at the floor, thoughts of devastation flooding their minds. And then they lock eyes and nod, Draco is sure to leave a note for his friends before following Snape out the door.

_I’ll be back, I promise- D_

\----------

They’re heading to Dumbledore’s office when McGonagall stops them, almost running straight into Snape.

“Severus!” She gasps, narrowing her eyes at Draco, who nods in return. Before he can think of an excuse, Snape is calmly explaining.

“Found him roaming the common room, said he couldn’t sleep when students were being attacked.”

McGonagall raises one eyebrow above her glasses so Draco puts on his best concerned face.

“I was worried about my friends...if something snuck in and tried to get them, they would be defenseless in their sleep. At least if I was up I could try to stop it.”

Her face softens at that, taking him completely off guard. She’s never looked so kind, not at him at least. 

“I decided to take him with me to the headmaster’s office, Dumbledore is bound to have books that might help, if all else it will bore him to sleep.”

The two Professors glance at him in amusement before McGonagall’s eyes shade over. “I do so hope you find something…” she bites her lips, lowering his voice and speaking quickly, “Potter and Ronald Weasley are missing. They weren’t present for the dorm checks and I fear…”

“They’ve gone to save her,” Snape grimaces. Draco pretends he didn’t hear them, glancing around and surely not peaking at the worry clouding McGonagall’s face as she nods. 

“Alert me if you find anything, Severus, I’ll keep looking, and you! Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco snaps his head back to the conversation to find the teacher he thought hated him most giving him a serious yet kind smile. “Do be careful, we cannot afford to lose two students in one night.” 

She scurries away before he can return the favor, dashing down the hall and mummering spells to locate her missing students. The mere thought of Potter taking on a basilisk is enough to send anxiety through his veins, hands shaking as they climb the tower to Dumbledore’s untouched office.

“Luckily for us, the ministry hasn’t been able to clean his office out, or do anything but keep him away from the school. After this I do hope they learned their lesson.” 

Snape leaves out the ‘no one got taken when Dumbledore was here’ unspoken, but Draco sure as hell thinks it. Fawkes is waiting for them, pacing around the floor and squeaking as soon as the two enter the room. He flies into the sorting hat, trying to get it, much to the hat’s dismay.

“Someone get this thing off me! It’s clawing at my leather!”

Draco rolls his eyes, going to grab Fawkes so Snape can look through books, but Fawkes refuses to leave the hat alone. Eventually he takes the stupid hat and gives it to the Phoenix, “Is this what you want? What could you possibly need with the hat-”

“It can grant people things when they’re in need.” Snap interjects, eyeing the bird. “He’s trying to go somewhere, who could need his help _now-_ ”

Their eyes widen. “ _Potter._ ”

Draco whirls on the bird, “Is that where you’re trying to go? To Potter?”

Seeing that birds can’t talk, he doesn’t get a reply, but he does follow Fawkes to a window and open it for him, “Go and help him, boy. I’ll give you treats when you get back.” 

And with that the Phoenix is gone, sorting hat yelling out into the night and Draco can only hope they make it in time. He runs back down to Snape. “Is there any way we can watch Potter? In the pensive?”

“Pensives are for memories, Draco, it might work if Potter had a two-way mirror, but I highly doubt he’d take one from _us_ without force.”

“What about Foe-glass? 

Snape gives him a look, “Foe-glass? You have to actually dislike your ‘foe’ for it to work.”

“With how much I want to strangle Potter, it might.”

That the professor seems to understand, pointing at Dumbledore’s desk while he flips through a book with a Greek title. “Second drawer on the left.”

Draco runs to it, throws it open, and stares, focusing on how much he dislikes Potter, how much he wanted to strangle the idiot, how much he was going to taunt and bully him for this entire lack of thought process. He thinks and mummers and curses, and nothing shows. Just his own grey eyes looking at him. It makes sense, Snape is right, he doesn’t actually hate Potter, or even consider him a foe, they are on the same side of course, the Anti-Dark Lord crew or whatever the hell they were going to call themselves. Naming hadn’t really been on the mind with Potter constantly meeting up with pieces of the Dark Lord, oh Merlin, imagine if Potter really did meet up with the Dark Lord. It wouldn't end well for either of them, the Dark Lord would surely- The glass in his hand burned, and to his utter surprise, he was looking at a young-yes attractive- man, staring over a bleeding Harry Potter and an unconscious Ginny Weasley. At least, Draco really hoped she was just unconscious. 

“S-Snape.”

“Yes-what? How did you-?”

“I was thinking about the Dark Lord and-”

“Then that must be Tom Riddle-Merlin _what_ is Potter doing?!”

In the glass, Potter took the tooth of the basilisk, unmoving behind him, sent a glare to Tom Riddle, and then stabbed the diary before him. To Snape’s and Draco’s shock, Riddle burst into light with every stab Potter gave. Glowing and glowing and bursting with light into utter nothingness. To their relief, as soon as the bright light faded, Ginny Weasley sat up and immediately rushed to help Potter. Fawkes joined them right before the glass faded into their own reflections, leaving Draco to fall into the headmaster’s chair.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Professor, but did Harry Potter just defeat both a basilisk _and_ Riddle?”

Snape looked equally shocked, if not slightly more relieved. “I wish I could correct you, but it appears I cannot.”

“Fawkes will heal them and bring them back, right?”

“Well I can’t imagine him leaving them down there.”

They lock eyes for the billionth time this evening, and then Draco, because he is tired, and because he saw a younger version of the man he most feared, and because Harry _bloody_ Potter had somehow managed to pull _something_ out of his ass and save the day, doubles over and laughs. 

He laughs while Snape forces him out of Dumbledore’s office, he snickers through the hallways back to the Slytherin common room, and giggles as he settles between his two friends, snatching the note he’d left and promptly falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler; this chapter is building for the next fic i'm writing because the slytherin crew is v important to the next two plots. also we only have one more chapter!!!! are you excited? I'm excited, although it is going to be a bit different.


	8. Liar Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing Harry had ever expected was for Dobby to appear right before him and bow to Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! There is child abuse in this chapter! It's starts out from Harry's point of view also! Be prepared!

Harry Potter has had one hell of a night, or really, one hell of the last two years. Because the giant secret room under a three-headed dog and almost dying his first year wasn’t enough for Voldemort, the giant git _naturally_ had to find _another_ secret to Hogwarts and exploit it like it was his right. And, because he really forgets to think things through, he had found himself almost dying in a secret room all over again, at least this time it was because of a giant snake and not a trusted professor. A giant snake, and a bloody diary of all things. Kept under lock and key- not a normal key of course, more like a password that was rather simple for a parselmouth like himself- and distributed by Lucius Malfoy no less. The same Malfoy that kicked and hit Dobby right in front of him and once again, because he rarely thinks his ideas over- he should probably work on that- he’d snuck the elf a sock and freed him, almost gotten cursed, and managed to anger the man who wanted to kill him most, well most after Voldemort himself. 

So yes, Harry had been having one hell of a twenty-four hours, in which he decided he _really_ hated secrets. Which is why he is where he is now.

See, he hadn’t meant to follow Draco Malfoy, he really had wanted to go and sleep for a bit before getting his head chewed off by McGonagall, but the boy _looked_ suspicious. Who did he think he was, walking by himself and rather quickly, after Harry has just landed his father on his ass? Certainly he was up to no good, Draco Malfoy didn’t just take walks. He was going somewhere, and Harry had his invisibility cloak, so why _not_ follow the boy. If he was up to something, he would be stopped, and if he wasn’t, then Harry could sneak away and go to bed. 

Needless to say, he hadn’t expected to follow the boy to the Astronomy tower, or for him to lock the door and whisper “You can come out now”.

The last thing Harry had ever expected was for Dobby to appear right before him and bow to Malfoy.

“Really! What _were_ you thinking? You know it’s dangerous to come into the Slytherin common room, what if someone else had seen you? You could have gotten hurt!” 

Did he hit his head too hard last night? Was the poison still affecting him? Surely Dobby and Draco-

“Dobby is sorry, Master Draco, but Dobby has news!”

Malfoy raises an eyebrow, but then the elf is holding out a sock and a smile is breaking across Malfoy’s face. It’s weird to see him so happy, but the fact that it’s over a freed elf is even stranger.

“You have a sock? Are you….?”

Dobby nods, tears in his eyes, “Dobby is a free elf!”

Draco cries with delight, “Oh Dobby! That’s wonderful! Where will you go? What will you do?”

It’s that exact moment that everything comes crashing down and Dobby throws the sock on the floor, wailing and beating his head into the floor. “Dobby is a stupid elf! Dobby doesn’t know! Dobby has no home now! Nowhere to go! Dobby will die with no wizard to protect him! Dobby is-”

“Stop! Dobby quit it!” Malfoy yells, thankfully getting the elf to sit up right as he hands the sock back to its new owner. “You haven’t done anything wrong, there’s no need to punish yourself anymore. For anything. We’ll think of somewhere for you to go, where no one can hurt you and you can still serve those who please you.”

Dobby meets his former master with tears streaming down his face. “Master Draco will have no one to protect him either….he will have to deal with Master Lucius alone…”

Malfoy gives him a wry smile, “Nothing we both haven’t dealt with before. I’ll be alright. I would invite you to check on me freely, but I can’t risk your safety for that.”

“But Dobby wishes to help Master Draco!”

The room goes quiet and Harry swears he sees kindness in Malfoy’s eyes from his hiding spot. It must be his cloak playing tricks on him. 

“If you wish to help…” Malfoy begins, “Then stay here. At Hogwarts. I’m sure Dumbledore wouldn’t mind, and it’s the safest place in the world. Plus you could see me and Potter whenever you wished.”

Dobby’s tears stop. “Master would speak to Dumbledore for Dobby?”

“Of course!” Draco smiles, “It’s the least I could do after all your help this year, even if most of our hard work failed. Ah-no! Dobby, Potter is safe, even if we couldn’t stop him from coming, no one died, it’s fine.”

The elf pauses from where he was about to begin his head smashing once more and smiles. Harry, on the other hand, is suddenly very confused and very tired. Maybe he _should_ have gone to Madam Pomfrey for his head trauma, the scene before him couldn’t be happening. As soon as he thinks _what the hell am I witnessing_ there’s banging on the door.

“Draco! I know you’re in there! Open this door at once! If I have to unlock it so help me-”

Malfoy turns to Dobby, “Get out of here. I’ll find Dumbledore and talk to him later, stay in the kitchens until I find you.” The elf looks like he wants to protest, but Malfoy shakes his head. 

“Go, Dobby. I’ll be fine.” 

He shoots the disappearing elf a smile and Harry watches the cold look Malfoy usually wears fall into place before he opens the door and Lucius Malfoy strides in.

A click of a lock is heard and Harry really wishes he wasn’t so curious all the time.

“You. Insolent. _Brat_.” The elder Malfoy spits, and to Harry’s horror, the man raises his hand and pushes his son to the floor. 

“What the _hell_ has gotten into you?! _Helping_ Potter on the Quidditch field? Reporting the Mudblood’s fall? Staying out because you’re _worried_?! This is not how a Malfoy acts! It is the action of a traitor! You have three seconds to explain yourself or I will curse you into the next life!”

Draco Malfoy doesn’t look bothered in the least by being pushed and threatened by his father, a sign that Harry wishes he didn’t know so well by now. This was a common occurrence, given the way he calmly responds.

“Well, Father. Attacking Potter in public, in the middle of the game, no less, roused suspicion that you were the one hurting him, all the Gryffindor’s teammates were looking at you, and I couldn’t bear to have that stain across your name, nor my house. I assumed that by going to Madam Hooch, it would look less like our fault, and it did.”

A lie, a complete and utter lie, Harry had _been_ there, his entire team thought _Malfoy_ had been the one who cursed the Bludger, not his father. 

“As for Granger, I was seen when I found her, by a Hufflepuff, you know how annoyingly loyal they all are, if I hadn’t come clean, they would have found a way to blame the attacks on me, which you’ve told me numerous time was not allowed to happen.” 

Another lie, the game that had been canceled was Hufflepuff verses Gryffindor, everyone in either house had been at the game, there wasn’t a single empty seat.

“As for my late night wandering, I was checking to see who had gotten into the chamber, curious is all, and I was discovered by Snape and McGonagall, Snape didn’t believe my innocence, so he had me come with him, and McGonagall is easy to fool once feelings are involved. Snape covered for me, and I agreed with him to lower her accusation.”

The last one he could almost believe, but he _knew_ McGonagall, she would’ve chewed his head off then and there unless something was true. She didn’t bend to liars, he knew that from personal experience. 

Lucius Malfoy apparently did not know. Any of it, for he looked over his son thoughtfully, and then brought a steel-toed black boot over the boy’s stomach and stepped.

“Seeing as you were mostly helpful,” the man begins, ignoring his son’s withering and gasping, “I will refrain from cursing you. However, it is time for you to stop making these little mishaps.” He dug his shoe deeper into Draco’s stomach, Harry couldn’t turn away even though he was begging to. 

“When you come home, we will be beginning your training, and make no mistake, you will soon see this as a kindness.”

Before Harry could wonder what ‘this’ is, Lucius swiftly brought his boot to his son’s head, the boy going limp, much to Harry’s horror. He waited until Lucius grumbled something about having a disgrace for a son and left before he moved, tentatively stepping to Malfoy’s side until he was kneeling beside him.

The side of his head was beginning to bruise, but he was breathing which was a good sign. Harry made sure to carefully inspect the rest of him, no doubt his ribs were going to bruise too, the whole situation was really extremely strange, but somehow Harry felt like he had been meant to see it, after all if he hadn’t been there, Malfoy would have laid in the room for hours.

Or maybe not.

Footsteps rush up the stairs, Harry barely has enough time to throw the invisibility cloak over himself before Dumbledore is in the room, frowning at the sight of Malfoy. “This is not how I hoped to find you upon my return,” The headmaster looks so sad, stricken with something Harry thinks he feels too. 

He picks Malfoy up in his arms, very carefully placing the boy’s head in his lap, and waits as Fawkes comes flying in, crying all over Malfoy’s face and stomach, only to burrow down and rest his head on Malfoy’s chest. Soft grey eyes open moments later, a pale hand comes up to stroke at Fawkes’ head. 

“Headmaster? When did you get back?” 

“Not soon enough, it appears. How does your head feel?” 

Malfoy looks off to the distance, which happens to mean him locking those soft grey eyes on Harry’s. For a moment it’s like everything falls away. He can see every emotion in those eyes looking at him, and then they fade away before Harry can identify them. 

“I feel fine, how long was I out?” 

“Not long. I found you shortly after Mr. Malfoy left. I do have to ask, how long has he been abusing you?” 

Malfoy sits up, calming Fawkes’ protests with a few well placed scratches. “Since summer. It’s not usually this bad, and he never does it when Mother is home. Usually it’s not bad, nothing I can’t handle. At this point I more or less expect it.”

“Draco….” Dumbledore sighs, “It’s impossible for me to remove you without raising suspicion, I am sorry.” 

Malfoy laughs bitterly before looking back to the old man. “It’s fine. Like I said, nothing I can’t handle.” 

They quietly look at each other, as if daring the other to say something. After a few minutes Dumbledore gives, “We should make our way to the Great Hall. The victims will be joining us tonight, we’ll finally have the school back in one piece.”

That brings back Malfoy’s smile and a giddiness in Harry that outshines the confusion. _Hermione_ would be with them tonight. He could ponder over his discoveries later, after he’d gotten the hell out of there and seen his friends. 

“It’s about time, don’t you think?” 

\----------

The last thing Draco Malfoy expected to be doing on his train ride back home was dreading it and being stared at by Harry Potter, who had, for some unholy reason, decided to pick the cart across from his for the train ride home. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Blaise asks, looking up from his book. “I mean Potter hasn’t stopped looking at you the entire ride.”

Draco shrugs, “If I ignore him, maybe he’ll go away.” 

“That’s never worked well in the past and you know it, that’s exactly how we ended up with Blaise in here.” 

Pansy ignores Blaise’s glare in favor of smirking at Draco, who also hits her with a glare. 

“Maybe I didn’t _try_ hard enough. Perhaps you’d like to help me test that theory?” 

Crabbe and Goyle make faces at that, Pansy just laughs. “Don’t be like that, darling! You know I’m just teasing.” 

Blaise makes a snide comment in response that Draco ignores so he can slam his book down and glare at Potter. 

Green eyes stare into his, searching, looking for something. Draco merely hardens his scowl which scares the other boy into looking away. Blaise whistles. 

“Now _that’s_ scary. I bet you could make a first year pass out with that one.”

“ _Really_?” He responds, “I think it would work on a nosy second year as well.”

“Hey! We're in our third year now.”

“Not until spring, there’s still a few months left you know.” 

Draco chills at the thought. His mother would be in France yet again for the majority of summer, meaning Lucius would…..Merlin he didn’t want to think about it. 

Pansy and Blaise grabbed his hands, Crabbe and Goyle met his eyes. 

“Hey.” Pansy starts softly, “It’ll be over soon.”

Blaise gives him a warm smile, “We’ll owl you constantly, you won’t miss us that much.”

But oh, bloody hell, would he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm already working on the first chapter for the next part! If I don't get it up today it will be up tomorrow!

**Author's Note:**

> this is going to be a rather long series, as i'm basically rewriting harry potter but changing a fuck ton, the first few fics will be annoyingly similar and i'm sorry about that, but i was watching the movie and though 'draco totally sent dobby.' and now here we are. anyways, i hope you all enjoy and stick with me for this


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